There I saw the glittering sun in a clear brook and snatched it away,
Here the carefree bubble of a child:
How easily stolen these gems,
Tossed under a corner of clothes,
There, where no one comes to look,
or should, or where our hope is.
A sneak, perhaps a thief, chronicling the loose slip of the silk and the sarib,
Careless whispers sailing on a summer wind,
Summer's wind at moontide
When the moon is sailing, sailing so and can't be caught.
(I'll steal it away!)
And if the dawn is careless
I'll take the very day.
