We don’t cry — Tim and I,
We are far too grand –
But we bolt the door tight
To prevent a friend –

Then we hide our brave face
Deep in our hand –
Not to cry — Tim and I –
We are far too grand –

Nor to dream — he and me –
Do we condescend –
We just shut our brown eye
To see to the end –

Tim — see Cottages –
But, Oh, so high!
Then — we shake — Tim and I –
And lest I — cry –

Tim — reads a little Hymn –
And we both pray –
Please, Sir, I and Tim –
Always lost the way!

We must die — by and by –
Clergymen say –
Tim — shall — if I — do –
I — too — if he –

How shall we arrange it –
Tim — was — so — shy?
Take us simultaneous — Lord –
I — “Tim” — and Me!

Musicians wrestle everywhere –
All day — among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife –
And — waking — long before the morn –
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that “New Life”!

If is not Bird — it has no nest –
Nor “Band” — in brass and scarlet — drest –
Nor Tamborin — nor Man –
It is not Hymn from pulpit read –
The “Morning Stars” the Treble led
On Time’s first Afternoon!

Some — say — it is “the Spheres” — at play!
Some say that bright Majority
Of vanished Dames — and Men!
Some — think it service in the place
Where we — with late — celestial face –
Please God — shall Ascertain!