Life is a flower,
On the bridge to midnight.
As dreams from the morning,
Come to nothing in the evening.
Her hands are soft,
As like beauty.
And more like innocence,
To dispel curses from the wind.
Life will vanish,
Like a ghost upon the sun.
And in the smoky woods
All the darkness will come to end.
I sleep upon this pouch of time,
As minutes that show the weakness of my frame.
And cast away my life to nil,
As dusty stars that come to nothing.
A mercy in the light,
Is that which still stands.
As a glassy good heart,
Unfolding in the ages.