Marcellus, won't you tell us—
Truly tell us, if you can,—
What will you be, Marcellus,
When you get to be a man?
You turn, with never answer
But to the band that plays.—
O rapt and eerie dancer,
What of your future days?
Far in the years before us
We dreamers see your fame,
While song and praise in chorus
Make music of your name.
And though our dreams foretell us
As only visions can,
You must prove it, O Marcellus,
When you get to be a man!