Satiety

All thy gifts must die, All thy thoughts must fail; Such were the decree writ by time With shadows on the scroll of fate. Even thy memory recedes into forgetting, Thy lustrous words star-like set, Ah, sweet! autumn's breath withers all, Even the west-wind fears to tread. All yield to the power of relentless time That no love nor passion can stay, Blown like dried leaves we now On the granite pavement of fate. No more thy lip-touch on my brow, Nor thy hands pleading caresses, Thy gifts fall and fade into nothing, Thy vision grows dim in life's sunset-west.

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Drowsy the noonday air, Under the trees the still shadow Like a fugitive fragment of night Seeks shelter from the sun.

The bird has ceased singing, The beggar unable to bear The wealth of the sun Spreads his torn garment,

To find peace in The benign shadow of sleep. Ah, lone soul like him, I spread this rag of my song.

Under the tree of life Over which blazes the sun of fate. The calm of its shadow Protects me, but where my peace?

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