How cold is the world

How cold is the world, how dark is the days, how sweet the simple sounds, of sweet and tender wanderers beneath the moonlit grounds. Of shadow stars, and daffodils, and sweetly little glades. Of cold and dark and mirthless things, in truth they are a lark. How doth thee say these words of mine, how else would you convey? The cold and tender wanderings, throughout the livelong day. Oh how they laugh and lark about, those cruel-less children of mine! Oh, how they smile and jump about, and frolic as they play. Can you tell me, tell me please, what else here can I do? Tell me, tell me, tell me please, what else here can I do? Can I wander in the night, the dark and aimless morn? And can I dance upon the stars, and fall upon the moon? I want to wait and see a while, and tell what may be done. I want to see what I can do, and fall unto the sun. Oh wish the world a brighter morn, oh wish it brighter still. I wish that I may comfort you and walk upon the hill. The hill of sorrows and faiths unbroken, promises untold. Of hills and valleys, follies hold, and fall away, unfold.