All rise, behold the famous disappearing man Who comes in crimson robes but leaves in yellow rags Hear now his ancient call to union And the furious communion of the maiden and the stag In the dark, in the dawn, with your wedding dress in tatters You reveal the yearning desert in the country of your skin How you ache for the fawn, and he says it doesn't matter But it does and he's gone, and you know that he won't be back again Long now he's borne his heavy armor resting Only in his sorrows and his noble-nosed regrets Some light, some momentary solace And he'll ride off gay and lawless as the moment that you met So the night comes and goes, and there's no one there to nurture But yourself and you know that you've nothing left to lose Will you stand in the road waiting for another searcher Will you weep soft and low in the voice that your mother used to use Springtime the swain came green and hero like A friendly gypsy storm on tender lilies, hale and blaze Late fall, the boatman rowed you grimly Down a canyon dark and empty in a stale and dreary haze At the end of the year when the cliffs rise up behind you And the stream runs in circles from the chasm to the core And the sun comes in tears 'cause the gardener did not find you Will you bloom bright and fierce, will you know you don't need him anymore