the magic of the lute

and right there near the city wall
unto your beauty fell my heart
nature herself could not impart
a greater feeling than my call
although each heart is meant to fall
that's just the opening the start
the rest's a matter of plain art
the troubadour down in the hall
singing knights of time long past
who named the beauties in the song
and set gay learning out in rhyme
far beyond memory they are cast
the journey back there is too long
and we no longer have the time