OB-LA-DI OB-LA-DA

A thought went up my mind today that I have had before,
But did not finish, - same way back, I could not fix the year,
Nor where it went, nor why it came the second time to me,
Nor definately what it was, have I the art to say.
But somewhere in my soul, I know I've met the thing before;
It just reminded me - that was all - And came my way no more.

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So proud she was to die
It made us all ashamed
That what we cherished, so unknown
To her desire seemed.
So satisfied to go
Where none of us should be,
Immediadely, that anguish stooped
Almost to jealousy.

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I had no time to hate, because the grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I could finish enmity.
Nor had I time to love; but since some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought, was large enough for me.

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I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design;
But the success was his, it seems, and the discomfit mine.
I meant to tell her how I longed for just this single time;
But Death had told her so the first, and she had hearkened him.
To wander now is my abode; To rest, - to rest would be
A privilege of hurricane to memory and me.

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I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell! They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be Somebody! How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!

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She went as quiet as the dew from a familiar flower.
Not like the dew did she return at the accustomed hour!
She dropped as softly as a star from out my summer's eve;
Less skillful than Leverrier it's sorer to believe!

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I took my power in my hand and went against the world;
It was not so much as David had, but I was twice as bold.
I aimed my pebble, but myself was all the one that fell.
Was it Goliath was too large,
Or only I too small?

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Remorse is memory awake, her companies astir, --
A presence of departed acts at window and at door.
Its past set down before the soul, and lighted with a match,
Perusal to facilitate of its condensed despatch.
Remorse is cureless, -- the disease not even God can heal;
For it is His institution, -- The complement of hell.