And a heart will break when the dreamer wakes,
for his soul will ache after all he makes,
yet for his sake the morning breaks.
He fumbles his words, and the vision is blurred
of the colorful birds which once had so stirred
him and spurred him to write down the word…
…that mysterious thing, that mystical ring,
the crown of a king—he hears what they sing!
and yet cannot bring into day that strange thing.
The day the night takes and so the spell breaks
and what had he heard! That mysterious word!
And oh what a sting, to forget such a thing.
Tale Told 