Magic, I have learned,
Obeys its own Design.

I might wish,
And I often do;
But a beggar I remain,
Afoot and weary.

She is still there, I believe;
There beyond the boundary
Of my dearest dream.

I might wish to draw close;
And I do so wish;
But a beggar I remain,
Afoot and weary.

Still I trek on;
Who can tell...tomorrow's Truth
Is known to no one.
I trek on...a wish with
Each breath.

Perhaps this will come to naught;
The odds give no comfort.
I trek on despite that,
Afoot and weary...
Yet I wish...

My horse!
To my love's side I ride!
This, I might wish,
And often do;
But a beggar I remain;
Afoot and weary.

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