Wilfred Owen - To -- lyrics

Three rompers run together, hand in hand. The middle boy stops short, the others hurtle: What bumps, what shrieks, what laughter turning turtle. Love, racing between us two, has planned A sudden mischief: shortly he will stand And we shall shock. We cannot help but fall; What matter? Why, it will not hurt at all, Our youth is supple, and the world is sand. Better our lips should bruise our eyes, than He, Rude Love, out-run our breath; you pant, and I, I -- cannot run much farther, mind that we Both laugh with Love; and having tumbled, try To go forever children, hand in hand. The sea is rising ... and the world is sand.