• I Am a Singaporean, Not a Magician

  • Dec 25 2021
  • Length: 1 min
  • Podcast

I Am a Singaporean, Not a Magician

  • Summary

  • I am a Singaporean, not a magician

    Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the end;

    Sometimes we see a gentle reverie you take,

    The shepherds followed me by your wintry weather

    Springs from some unhappy master gems of power—

    Fell on the dark against your tremulous turquoise,

    Light as a yellow fire from an angel eye—

    Your smile was as the mountain of a minute,

    Light of familiar earth, a thirsty bower,

    Close here I flung thee into this golden valley,

    Such as the fog in ecstasy along the sand,

    Doth never hold a light as an aerial dream.

    Again the thunder of a war along the night,

    Light as a yellow mountain in that yellow moon!

    Each one had taken in the happiness of love,

    A dream of a dream in an enchanted valley,

    Softly the sycamore floats with the purple dew!

    Beside my lyre in the moonbeam or the dream.

    Beauty will live in a music as a music,

    The precious hours of each a dream and hour,

    Without thy power thy memory is forgot;

    Rose among the tired people at a viol;

    I came an empty quiet from a morning wide,

    Fair and shadowy as a light of a swallow,

    Beside thee as the leaves of an unholy moon!

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