Voice Like Music

And indeed there will be time, For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window panes, There will be time, there will be time , To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet, There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands, That lift and drop a question on your plates, Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.