Still, somewhere maps relay the dusty road,
To unreturning travellers, who try
And understand the strange schematic code,

And if the live be pressed beneath the load
Of hourglass sand which time bestows, and sigh,
Still, somewhere maps relay the dusty road.

And if lugubrious loneliness be showed
By lost, benighted friends whose debts be high
And understand the strange schematic code,

Then, still, it is our benefit, our mode
Delight when others break like glass to cry,
Still, somewhere maps relay the dusty road.

And if our sisters merely smirk or goad
And claim their ignorance, perhaps they lie
And understand the strange schematic code,

But you, bewitching, all my joy have slowed
And make this declaration, though I die.
Still, somewhere maps relay the dusty road,
And understand the strange schematic code.

TCH