Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Some one came knocking, I'm sure-sure-sure.

For beauty with sorrow Is a burden hard to be borne: The evening light on the foam, and the swans, there; That music, remote, forlorn.

Softly along the road of evening, In a twilight dim with rose, Wrinkled with age, and drenched with dew Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.

Wonderful lovely there she sat, Singing the night away, All in the solitudinous sea Of that there lonely bay.