English poem
Villanelle Of The Players
by Joyce Kilmer (1886–1918)
Violets fade with the May, Purple and fragrant they die, Players live for a day.
What is their legacy, pray? Where does their loveliness lie? Violets fade with the May.
Actors in motley array Grace of your memory cry, Players live for a day.
Where the sad pine trees sway Lonely the reft winds sigh, Violets fade with the May.
Withered the wreaths of bay, Wine-cups are cracked and dry, Players live for a day.
Clouds of the sunset sky, None shall their eulogy say, Violets fade with the May, Players live for a day.