
There dwelleth a fair lady, convinced that all that doth glitter be gold,
And she doth seek a stairway to yon celestial abode.
When she arrives at her destined place, she shall perceive,
If all the shops be shuttered, with but a word, she can cleave
To that which she hath long sought—
O, and she doth purchase a stairway to Heaven.
Upon the wall hangs a sign, yet she doth desire to be sure,
For thou knowest, at times, words have meanings obscure.
By a brook, there stands a tree where a songbird doth sing,
Oft, our thoughts do betray us, the doubts they may bring—
O, it maketh me ponder,
O, it truly doth make me wonder.
There cometh a feeling when I gaze toward the West,
And my spirit doth weep for the freedom it a quest.
In my mind’s eye, I have beheld rings of smoke through the trees,
And the whispers of those who stand there at ease—
O, it maketh me ponder,
O, indeed, it maketh me wonder.
‘Tis softly spoken that soon, if we all call the tune,
Then the piper shall lead us to reason, ere noon.
A new day shall dawn for those who endure,
And the forests shall echo with laughter, for sure.
O-oh-oh-oh, what a sight!
If there be a stir in thy hedgerow, do not fear,
‘Tis but a spring cleaning for the May queen, my dear.
Indeed, two paths before thee dost lie, yet in the end,
There’s still time to alter the course thou dost wend—
And it maketh me ponder,
O, how it doth move me to wonder.
Thy head is a-humming, and it shall not cease;
The piper is calling thee to join him in peace.
Sweet lady, canst thou hear the wind’s gentle blow?
And didst thou know thy stairway lies where the whispers do flow?
As we meander down this winding road,
Our shadows tower tall, outstripping the load.
There walks a lady whom we all know,
She doth shine with white light and yearns to bestow
How all things do turn to gold in the end.
If thou dost listen most closely, the tune shall descend
When all are as one, and one doth encompass all,
To be a rock steadfast and not let fate call—
And she doth purchase a stairway to Heaven.
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