I can't keep calm, I'm a Singaporean

Round a bright horizon of victory and wealth;

Light like a feather in a little little sprite,

Here in this secret every hour at night

Inlay waits the evening by the flowering tree;

Beside my lyre in the moonbeam or the dream.

We speak with long and joy for another hour,

Light of familiar earth, a thirsty bower,

Wine and a memory and a glowering woe

Away from the glad passing of an autumn tree,

Every dream of morn, a rosy glow would be

Rose a sweet smile of memory after time;

Divulge this secrets of a happier valley.

Both stones of victory and victory and land,

High over the rim of the horizon of eyes,

Within that hall I walked together with the moon—

Died in some power, and left an idle treasure

Beside a place of the mission an open sea,

Thy spirit shall cherish these crystalline delight,

Enough to clasp the fire in every star;

Without thy power thy memory is dwelling—

Fell as a mighty feather through the silent night,

Know the strong world of the interplay desire,

Shaken into forsaken embers at the ground.

Scion of fused strength and infinite desire.

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