the poet s voice lingers on his words hanging in the air the ground you walk upon might as well not be there might as well not be there i ll take you through my dreams out into the darkest morning past the blood filled streams into the garden of jane delawney into her garden now though the rose is there don t pluck it as you pass or the fire will consume your hair and your eyes will turn to glass your eyes will turn to glass in the willow s shade don t lie to hear it weep or its tears of gold and jade will drown you as you sleep will drown you now jane delawney had her dreams that she never did discover for the flow that feeds the streams is the lifeblood of her lover is the lifeblood of her lover and the purifying beams of the sun will shine here never while the spirit of her dreams in the garden lives forever lives forever now 