You Were Here At His Young Beginning, You Are Not Here At His Aged End; Off He Coaxed You From Life'S Mad Spinning, Lest You Should See His Form Extend Shivering, Sighing, Slowly Dying, And A Tear On Him Expend. So It Comes That We Stand Lonely In The Star-Lit Avenue, Dropping Broken Lipwords Only, For We Hear No Songs From You, Such As Flew Here For The New Year Once, While Six Bells Swung Thereto.