on the banks of the Oise

as today yields to the morrow
it's hope shall curb our sorrow

in fields above Auvers, they say
a gunshot rang against the sky

on this side of the starry spread
an awkward barnyard accident

a light so shines in what is dark
a soul blazes, embracing all

be tender, be kind while ye may
there is plenty to rue the day

as the day surrenders of its own
see it's kiss on fields in glints of gold