Men and women from many faraway places
Flock to this wonderfully enchanted old hall.
They say it belongs to a man of few faces.
None of which has any ever themselves seen.

Too many for anyone to properly track,
See and admire what is in his possession,
And acknowledge what and how he has given back.

Their mute expressions explain to each other all,
Away from the rest in a distant, dark corner,
A lonely man ponders something gold from his vest,
As they look in awe at the art upon the wall.

They stand in envy of the man's brilliant hue.
Oh, but how I would unthinkingly give it all;
To just expend one more precious minute with you.