There Are Voices Outside My Window

There are voices outside my window,
though I don’t know what they say;
perhaps they speak of love and jest,
or maybe of yesterday.

There are voices outside my window,
I have heard them above an hour;
they have a sing-song quality,
from here up in my tower.

There are voices outside my window,
they float from down below;
they mingle with the cars and trains,
and with the sweet wind blow.

There are voices outside my window,
can’t you hear them, too?
I’d like to go and join them,
but I’d rather not leave you.