By No Lesser Means

False tales foretold
How is it now that I am old
My own council shall I keep
Unless I weep, unlike the waters in the creek

What heart yearns beneath the sun
That could hold a candle before the one

No days are deemed from this day forth
As ill wind blows in from the north
Shall I light a candle yet
And hold my head with no regret

My own council shall I keep
I have no shelter for my keep
How is it none have noticed the things I do
Even when the day is through

Worthy and worthwhile yet
I hold my head with no regret
For greed is that, by no lesser means
That by which we live and feed our dreams