It is time to gather, my love
Time to fill our arms with what was
Time to reap all that was promised
And unkept
Time to adjust the rhyme
To a more knowledged time
Time to let shepherds rest
And reflect on the storm
Time to press the grape
Time for the silk-worm to restore
The torn testament of wills
The broken harbor of our hearts
Time to let go of faithless hands
Time to watch the swallows go
Time to kiss the blurried gold of September
It is the harvest time
Some things will live, others must die
