There were days
and there were days
and there were days between
Summer flies and August dies1
the world grows dark and mean
Comes the shimmer of the moon
on black infested trees
the singing man is at his song
the holy on their knees
the reckless are out wrecking
the timid plead their pleas
No one knows much more of this
than anyone can see
anyone can see
There were days
and there were days
and there were days besides
when phantom ships with phantom sails
set to sea on phantom tides
Comes the lightning of the sun
on bright unfocused eyes
the blue of yet another day
a springtime wet with sighs
a hopeful candle lingers
in the land of lullabies
where headless horsemen vanish2
with wild and lonely cries
lonely cries
There were days
and there were days
when all we ever wanted
was to learn and love and grow
Once we grew into our shoes
we told them where to go
walked halfway around the world
on promise of the glow
stood upon a mountain top
walked barefoot in the snow
gave the best we had to give
how much we’ll never know
we’ll never know
There were days
and there were days
and there were days between
polished like a golden bowl
the finest ever seen
Hearts of Summer held in trust
still tender, young and green
left on shelves collecting dust
not knowing what they mean
valentines of flesh and blood
as soft as velveteen
hoping love would not forsake
the days that lie between
lie between
Words by Robert Hunter
Music by Jerry Garcia
Evoking the month of Garcia’s birth.
A reference to Washington Irving’s tale “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”
First performance: February 22, 1993, at the Coliseum Arena in Oakland, California. It appeared regularly thereafter.
From Lesh’s autobiography:
Achingly nostalgic, “Days Between” evokes the past. The music climbs laboriously out of shadows, growing and peaking with each verse, only to fall back each time in hopeless resignation. When Jerry sings the line “when all we ever wanted / was to learn and love and grow” or “gave the best we had to give / how much we’ll never know,” I am immediately transported decades back in time, to a beautiful spring morning with Jerry, Hunter, Barbara Meier, and Alan Trist—all of us goofing on the sheer exhilaration of being alive. I don’t know whether to weep with joy at the beauty of the vision or with sadness at the impassable chasm of time between the golden past and the often painful present. 95
A brief, speculative note on the song’s structure: Hunter has laid out the lyric in an interesting manner, comprising four verses of fourteen lines each. While fourteen lines is the traditional length of the sonnet form, Hunter’s lines are much shorter than strict sonnet form would allow, but this may nevertheless be an homage to the form. More significant than the number of lines in each verse is the subtle reference to one season of the year in each verse, in the manner of a poet using the seasons as a metaphor for the cycles of life. The first verse is autumn; the second, spring; the third, winter; and the fourth, summer. So it’s a nonlinear year.