The Poet's Final Monologue:

Please forgive, dear audience If some of you have found offence With any one of these sad sights or sounds Heard here tonight We did our very best to tell this tale Which wasn't ours to change To suit a need for happier endings The story's old, A giant's, told a hundred some-odd years ago No doubt, a hundred years from now Long after these poor mouths have turned to dust Will still be told But if you are too sad, remember this: It's just a tale, with no more substance Than a shadow, or a thought And there we find a riddle: What then's more real, the teller and his tear? Or that which will remain Long after all these tellers disappear?

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