What if the song is sung, I say,
As long as the song was sung!
Did we not meet with the blood’s best play
The lash of the winds and the rain that stung,
And the tang of the salty spray?
Did we not drink the last drop that clung
To the golden bowl with its glowing fire,
Yet so cool to our burning tongue?
Did we not love with a love entire
That made up for all and a world of clay
In a moment of wild desire?
What if the song is sung, I say,
As long as the song was sung!