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Stars in the sky

Of lone existence

Burn in the distance

            Until they die.


After their marks

Masts on ships flutter,

Ocean waves clutter

            Wandering barks—


Forts of wood, free,

Floating to splutter

Slow-moving water,

            Deserts of sea.


Autumn birds stray

Over far beaches

And boundless reaches

            Of cloudy way;


Fly to their fall

In race nocturnal—

Passage eternal—

            For that is all.


Blossom of May

Is youth that kindles

Our life that dwindles

            And goes away.


For every fate

Spreads fleeting seconds

On wing that beckons

            Quiescent state.


Before I die,

Angel lean under

When in my wonder

            With grief I sigh:



Why waste, alas,

This fragile flower

Of rapid hour

            Given to us?