Call it an age, call it a day,
What's in the world with love away?
The sun a round and golden ghost,
The moon the shadow he has lost;
And spring herself for all her green
The bare and brown a pause between.
Call it an age, call it a day,
When love is gone, what's there to say?

Opal or gold, amber or gray,
What's in the world with love away?
Opal a pool of changeling fires,
Where the gold angel stirs desires
That do not heal Bethesda way
But only turn the amber gray.
Call it an age, call it a day,
When love is gone, what's there to say?

Call it a dream, call it a play,
What's in the world with love away?
With love away can a man clamber
To heaven by a rope of amber?
Or can an opal stretch a wire
To lead a girl to her desire?
Amber and opal—but I remember
Love that was better than opal or amber.
Call it an age, call it a day,
What's in the world with love away?