your chances come and go like a spring breeze
above the tulips maples still are bare
but all the city seems to be aware
that something's brewing in the mysteries
nature may hide some trick in her chemise
that the best gardener would not think she'd dare
and then send signals out in simplest clear
when we most think to sit and take our ease
on edge of spring we wait as on each night
the stars reveal another sort of chance
and we are given leave to ask for rest
not knowing yet what we may get as right
nor what our steps are in the coming dance
but hoping that each change is for the best

no echoes but the silence is so loud
that we are caught between the dark and pain
of interrupted morning once again
when rushing with all ants in the huge crowd
each is obliged to do what is allowed
take up the load and soak in the old stain
just hope that we are moving with the grain
and all the while refrain from being proud
those are the rules and they were clearly made
beyond the veil since they’re a simple law
meant to apply in every human course
until recall of all our deeds shall fail
then in good time we’ll offer up the flaw
leaving the payment to a lesser force

wisdom is but sharp experience read
against the peal of years and given weight
still by the time it matters we are dead

so all your chiding some good thought has bred
within each mind before the hour turns late
wisdom is but sharp experience read

in the cold pages of the tale of dread
as drear hours pass until we reach the gate
still by the time it matters we are dead

and all good judgment given up and fled
since it is past all moment for debate
wisdom is but sharp experience read

as text to the dark music in each head
that echoes in deep tones against the slate
still by the time it matters we are dead

therefore avoiding all those who have fled
into the perils of a different state
wisdom is but sharp experience read
still by the time it matters we are dead

our world turns all experience into test
just so we're measured each and every day
each purpose is the same to be the best

the angry and the ones who acquiesced
in the strict rules by which we willed to play
our world turns all experience into test

they said to us and we thought it a jest
until the last good choices went away
each purpose is the same to be the best

at this long game and not to be depressed
is what the teacher said and we were grey
our world turns all experience into test

with each achievement losing all its zest
once skill has turned it into just more play
each purpose is the same to be the best

so that is all the worth we may attest
while each of us has some good word to say
our world turns all experience into test
each purpose is the same to be the best

so much is lost inside the space of dark
where what we see and hear is felt so hard
that when we tear or find the door is barred
to every vision and without a mark
we turn to go we hasten to embark
on one more journey while you stand on guard
with eyes close watching on the final yard
as all our choices now have come down stark
no names are mentioned in the frozen place
where all are sorted for the last short trip
out to oblivion yet there's a chance
that these sad agents of the human race
may for a moment get themselves a grip
so joining in the finest kind of dance

no matter what the peak arcs all descend
unto the earth from which they first arose
that's the most certain the most profound trend
even for one who best withstands the blows
of evil fortune or of cruel fate
falls to despair then rises to high state
no epoch should be measured by one rule
yet we insist that far beyond the cool
and shaded halls where measure has its sway
all things are governed by a simple tool
so each becomes the hero of their day

just past its height the moment seems to bend
with all the weight of ages that could close
cold time's long judgment that will never mend
either warm eyes or the dull hearts that froze
from lack of feeling or the heavy freight
of knowledge that would rise and not abate
from the bright ocean to the chiefly stool
while other wisdoms might in time unspool
we were not shown the truth but in one way
which was to lead us all back into school
so each becomes the hero of their day

there's nothing more on which we must depend
between the morning and the next repose
when all the hours will with clean music blend
so that our thoughts will come out sweeter prose
all of our motion take a smoother gait
while vision leave  us with no dark to hate
returning light finds each beside a pool
bright with our hopes and in the morning cool
though being clear and apt enough for play
we can be certain that none is a fool
so each becomes the hero of their day

we have been warned against the last misrule
of ancient dodderers sunk in their drool
their grimaces the doltish things they say
enough to know we're past this basic school
so each becomes the hero of their day

partway along the path that all must tread
wrong turning taken in the dusk and muck
no hope to find the proper road ahead

so easy then to say that truth had fled
give up on life along with all my luck
partway along the path that all must tread

while many voices echo no words said
could quite convey how badly one was stuck
no hope to find the proper road ahead

darkness around the human world abed
so easy then the mortal form to shuck
partway along the path that all must tread

where none could scream from simple weight of dread
no light could come from passing car or truck
no hope to find the proper road ahead

the only message was you must fall dead
the world goes on no one will give a ****
partway along the path that all must tread
no hope to find the proper road ahead

from mountains coloured by no faint regret
there's never pause to think we must be past
the urgent moment when we were beset

by what seemed armies that could not forget
the banner that was once seen on our mast
from mountains coloured by no faint regret

yet we must move to wait would be to fret
and patience is for those who have not passed
the urgent moment when we were beset

from every side but still would take the bet
against despair we could not be outclassed
from mountains coloured with no faint regret

each could discern what would not be upset
till beyond hope all pilgrims would hold fast
the urgent moment when we were beset

right at the point where all the roads had met
and journeys would have reached their end at last
from mountains coloured by no faint regret
the urgent moment when we were beset

where no one sits there’s no reason to wait
yet there are many who with sharp regard
look in the distance with eyes that are hard
to see what they can measure of the gait
or bearing of the folk whose heavy freight
will end like all things in the somber yard
together with the honest and disbarred
and all that we can do is blame dull fate
our vision does not fail yet when we glance
outside the window matters not so bold
will move us not to hope but unto ire
for what we know seems ruled by evil chance
while brilliant sunshine does nothing to cold
since long ago each chose to bank the fire

your choices come down fast to none at all
an echo of the truth is no reward
since none will hear you if you have to call

out through the darkness that shall swiftly fall
when hope and vengeance reach their first accord
your choices come down fast to none at all

a world once large has rapidly grown small
and all good options have gone by the board
since none will hear you if you have to call

so half the planet listens to this brawl
while all the others look away quite bored
your choices come down fast to none at all

you've lost the plot been cast beyond the wall
finding out now just what you had deplored
since none will hear you if you have to call

in utter silence you confront the squall
with all the energy you can afford
your choices come down fast to none at all
since none will hear you if you have to call

all that we know is measured in degrees
of silence or of truth that we declare
not loudly but most firmly into air
that has been purified by these dark trees
standing impassive in the midday breeze
while we afflicted by most reasoned fear
are not so hopeful that we’ll choose to dare
go through the woods to face the heat or freeze
no options are so good are purest chance
but all our wishes end up just as vain
as when we started so we must endure
let other figures enter in the dance
hope for the sun but buck up under rain
and face each ill uncertain of the cure

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain
their reds and yellows dull on the dark ground
so much of sorrow is already plain

to us who listen as the boughs complain
at the winds passage with a sighing sound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are one more sign of life's passing campaign
against eternity this is one round
so much of sorrow is already plain

and we're the losers since we never gain
a single inch nor hope for a rebound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are but the markers of our lost terrain
someone will come and heap them in a mound
so much of sorrow is already plain

it is reality nothing arcane
our normal vista not a thing profound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain
so much of sorrow is already plain

when all the wars have ended we're bereft
of home and hope but have not yet been killed
so we construct a life from what is left

the new beginnings truly have no heft
all springs of old revival had been stilled
when all the wars have ended we're bereft

pained by misfortunes by our failures cleft
none can be certain of the truly willed
so we construct a life from what is left

of the old world knowing full well the deft
conversion to the new won't be distilled
when all the wars have ended we're bereft

of wisdom but we fear no further theft
our knowledge and our sorrow both fulfilled
so we construct a life from what is left

while in the dust the serpent and the eft
conduct their searches we must turn to build
when all the wars have ended we're bereft
so we construct a life from what is left

let us recall  the best effects of style
when those who listen know how best to hear
and do not injure those who hold most dear
the hidden blessings of the final mile
rather they wish the urgent to beguile
expecting that the best might engineer
sounds that will please the most discerning ear
and lead once drooping eyes to shine and smile
the age of wonder has no fixed return
but comes upon us as we seem to find
not a changed world but a remarked abode
the home that we have loved for which we yearn
that seemed so hidden for time out of mind
appear before us as we climb the road

with what fresh words of choice or soft regret
are we to fight our battles now that time
has tolled against us the dull weight of grime
obscures our vision but no sort of debt
to past or future could hurt or abet
the heart of purpose as we seek to climb
beyond this moment past the normal slime
where there is neither  injury nor fret
you see us crawling searching for one spark
of ordinary kindness that might lead
the normal person from their weary plight
relieve our hearts from burden of the dark
reward with honour the most worthy deed
and grant assurance of a renewed light

in the beginning we counted no cost
but went rejoicing into the warm rain
so now more grimly we face what we've lost

so many choices into the mix tossed
almost at random it all seemed so plain
in the beginning we counted no cost

as being worth waiting no text was glossed
for hidden messages all was just gain
so now more grimly we face what we've lost

a world more troubled a future star-crossed
no brilliant thoughts emerging from each brain
in the beginning we counted no cost

instead we are the ones who now are bossed
ordered about and marked with a sad stain
so now more grimly we face what we've lost

knowing that morning will see the first frost
that signals a new winter with its pain
in the beginning we counted no cost
so now more grimly we face what we've lost

we  fear to echo what the sunlight speaks
in voices that cannot be raised too loud
for fear we might stand out within the crowd
or be admonished as monsters or freaks
so we are silent do not strain our breeks
in the assurance we will not be proud
of course or carriage nothing is allowed
to harm the tenor of our days and weeks
for normal passage this might be enough
but more is needed when we have to find
the kind of courage that you only need
when life has taken all your other stuff
and you’ve been drive mad as well as blind
yet have a chance for one more human deed

beneath the cloud is clarity of sight
where choices made do not entail regret
but only wistfulness that we have set
our hopes too high as swiftly-coming night
will end the journey still in our despite
there's magic against which we may not bet
so each must laugh while all the foolish fret
for there's still someone who can make all right
not for us here the option to renew
all the old answers that no longer serve
to cover up what must now be made plain
those monstrous forms that we refuse to view
or the old houses just around the curve
where we used to take shelter from the rain

before we cut the cord there is some time
to know the places where all choice is plain
and there is neither complete loss or gain
nor any hiding underneath the grime
for anyone the world is in its prime
we find it easy to remove each stain
nor is it hard to to show or to explain
the value given to each song or chime
while each one waits to hear just how the day
will be reported by the wisest folk
we will not rush unseeing  to remark
upon the rules that bound all work or play
nor those we take to be some kind of joke
that leave  us gasping at return of dark

now tell me that this moment is no lie
we mean to go one just as we began
to measure all the world within one eye

so that this magic will not make you cry
allow each of us to fulfill the plan
now tell me that this moment is no lie

since you have gained the trust and will not cry
for any reason there's a way to span
to measure all the world within one eye

we have been gifted with this will to try
for other countries where there is no ban
now tell me that this moment is no lie

that honour rises in the summer sky
with all the goodliness that we may scan
to measure all the world within one eye

in order that each heart may learn to fly
beyond the places where our feet first ran
now tell me that this moment is no lie
to measure all the world within one eye

from shadow into shadow there's no need
to measure honour nor to mete out pain
through the sad morning for each must abstain
from that fierce propaganda of the deed
which was by action of straight force decreed
since all the nature of this world's made plain
and we learn both the cure and the heart's bane
what makes us whole and what will make us bleed
truth does not give the agent much real choice
you get to act since there's nowhere to rest
this side of death that is the one sure fact
instead you have to give justice a voice
face the rough world and submit to the test
just hoping to get all the way intact

we always seem to leave there in the rain
not in light drizzle but a heavy pour
that catches us straightway we leave the door
yet we're back with no reason once again
to find our way through torrents to the plain
it seems too much and yet we ask for more
as if this were a torment we adore
the price of pleasure being this hard strain
the thunder speaks and we dare not respond
since all our fears are centred in that sound
when it is echoed by each traitor heart
revealing that we won't refuse the bond
and most afraid that hope will not rebound
because our hands and minds have lost the art

the name is wrong the memory still right
of the grey trees beside the drystone wall
fruiting in summer so lush in recall
and seen so clearly in approaching night
as we looked up to see the birds in flight
the setting sun that gorgeous red ball
as into the green sea it seemed to fall
made of it one stark blessing of a sight
we cannot know what goods may come to pass
on this hard journey up and down the hill
but dare not bid a single minute stay
yet what we see reflected in the glass
is not the force either of wit or will
but all the markings of the normal way

in the bright morning under the free sun
all are now equal each of us may stand
glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

the times are over when we had to run
justice has entered where it once was banned
in the the bright morning under the free sun

a different type of journey has begun
when no one has the right of sole command
glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

we look around and see that we have won
so very much that all our words seem bland
in the bright morning under the free sun

what will become of us is known to none
but t we are ready and we understand
gland in the knowledge that the lash is done

and we have reached the point where everyone
must pause to sing then claim as theirs the land
in the bright morning under the free sun
glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

no trumpets echo in the deepest night
each is alone and must make their own way
towards the portals that let in new day
lacking the hearty pleasures of insight
and most uncertain still the ******* fright
will not much longer have unfettered sway
within this realm nor will the foolish bray
insisting on what cannot long be right
what we find true belongs to honest chance
the golden bloom that in the dawn we pluck
with loving thoughts arisen in each heart
ready the while to furnish our advance
with certainty that goes beyond plain luck
and all the wisdom that is from our art

we are not measured rightly by good chance
our hopes are limitless but not our skin
there are no victors ever at this dance

they told us this was the time to advance
that all the old faults had been cast in bin
we are not measured rightly by good chance

our wounds will never let us jump or prance
and when we are related we're not kin
there are no victors ever at this dance

since it's a game whose players can enhance
their virtues best by adding to the din
we are not measured rightly by good chance

nor yet permitted to take up a stance
above the fray our only hope is sin
there are no victors ever at this dance

but there are still fools who think it romance
and who believe that there's a prize to win
we are not measured rightly by good chance
there are no victors ever at this dance

so here we are beneath the pallid ray
of summer noontime seeking to escape
for just one moment from the normal shape
of discreet instance so that we might play
a different sort of role where one could say
the angry words to those with mouth agape
that tell apart the angel from the ape
but those are for another cooler day
instead we look to work a better will
in places where the choice is not so bright
as underneath the growing midday roar
of silver needles passing by the hill
each flashing clearly in the brilliant light
so bidding us to join with them and soar

lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream
into the noon the sum of all our fears
not caring much about the weight of dream

on every several head until the beam
of milky light reveals the open tears
lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream

not only terrified but eyes agleam
with anger so this long hard tale of years
not caring much about the weight of dream

has caught each up in both the milk and cream
and blended in the message of our cares
lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream

all of our secrets in one clouded stream
while all around we feel the touch of stares
not caring much about the weight of dream

in middle day when the truth reigns supreme
denying mercy in the moveless airs
lacking all doubt choices unmade we scream
not caring much about the weight of dream

no need for echoes where the silence heaps
up in dark corners waiting for new night
to lower herself and let the breathy might
that we call summer with its sudden leaps
of devastating beauty stay our sleeps
from each astonishment that seems so right
just when it happens then we turn that slight
degree of justice into one that weeps
we are not wrong to ask just what the time
must measure out for each unwanted child
who comes upon the wall and does pause
to beg for mercy nor to ring the chime
of those who think the tenor is too mild
but will uphold the harshest of our laws

the voices that are loudest in the dark
need not be those on which we must depend
call on a hope that's ample and not stark

for which new voyage when we first embark
there's no clear meaning that we could intend
the voices which are loudest in the dark

are not the ones we first set out to mark
on whose loud booming our thoughts would perpend
call on a hope that's ample and not stark

that is the task of scholar priest and clerk
here now to master each unworldly trend
the voices that are loudest in the dark

will not be those who cannot just remark
on ordinary passage they must bend
call on a hope that's ample and not stark

allow the motion to ignite a spark
of true humanity before the end
the voices that are loudest in the dark
call on a hope that's ample and not stark

impossible to miss that shining blue
the eye drawn outward to the furthest bound
where sense and vision come together drowned
in the immensity of that deep hue
where worlds and hopes are both slightly askew
some better wisdom is what we have found
where other souls in torment run aground
justice may grant an option to renew
no mind's enough to catch at all we need
for this long voyage through the middle air
though patience grants a chance to set all right
when each has found some soil to plant a seed
and seen it nurtured given proper care
allowed to shoot its blossom into light

at istanbul the line is swift
faces are warm the world is here
we have the journey as our gift

all landed safe none cast adrift
no crisis left to engineer
at istanbul the line is swift

we're moved along all hearts must lift
as each direction comes out clear
we have the journey as our gift

no simple one so for our thrift
we've been repaid and very dear
at istanbul the line is swift

but none can say that they've been stiffed
as cost of entry will appear
we have the journey as our gift

though we come far and have to sift
through memories made everywhere
at istanbul the line is swift
we have the journey as our gift

no accident of language catches quite
the changing shades of meaning that reflect
not what is said but what we could reject
if well presented to our proper sight
but when we take as given in due right
and not as secrets of some hidden sect
they are the matters we have truly checked
and we are lost deep in the summer night
yet no one wonders at the altered state
nor at the clash of symbols that is seen
by those few waking through the starlit time
eager  to find a different sort of fate
but not to learn just what it ought to mean
nor yet the purpose of the long hard climb

fearful and waking is no normal state
but leaden hours induce no better heat
than mental light and thoughts of long defeat
in bitter summer we're past the first gate
deep into the dark country bearing freight
of so much history still incomplete
all of it human both truth and deceit
all to requirement but none of it fate
so measure that we find the true belief
is what we know and give to all our folk
upon their waking to the morning chime
of bells that have not known a moment's grief
but ring the ending of inhuman yoke
and bid us all achieve a better time

the true republic lies beneath the sea
a single bound will take you straightway there
it's our first homeland where we were born free

look where the master will not let you see
far past the fictive kingdoms of the air
the true republic lies beneath the sea

no effort's needed for each one to flee
just leave right now and be at ease from care
it's our first homeland where we were born free

where we learnt justice at our mother's knee
return' so easy we just have to dare
the true republic lies beneath the sea

not far at all we note the mango tree
the purple bloom the old man on his chair
it's our first homeland where we were born free

the place of order where we long to be
and it is simple to end the affair
the true republic lies beneath the sea
it's our first homeland where we were born free

the seeking eye that even seems to speak
of urgent matters at an early time
is the best weapon wielded by the weak

not in the option given to the meek
to keep heads lowered as the sweet bells chime
the seeking eye that even seems to speak

looks through a wall apparently unique
but hidden in its recesses and grime
is the best weapon wielded by the weak

a simple tool not modern nor antique
whose users have come under in their prime
the seeking eye that even seems to speak

and not been frighted they are past critique
able to know just where in the long climb
is the best weapon wielded by the weak

those who are able find they are to peek
in hidden places for the true sublime
the seeking eye that even seems to speak
is the best weapon wielded by the weak

a missionary aching to be done
with all the trappings of the muddy past
shed the sad history as a worm its cast
be new and happy in the springtime sun
we know who has this and there is not one
secure or guarded from the sullen blast
of deep-felt hatred striking at the last
signs of old story shouting out they've won
there are some means of easing the old ire
of turning rage back into wholesome ways
of decent living yet we watch each fail
as all our truths are cast into the fire
just so a new world can face different days
and there can be a better kind of tale

no one this day shall say they stood aloof
when the new rose first came into fresh flower
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

we would have faced a certain harsh reproof
no long before but all changed in an hour
no one this day shall say they stood aloof

nor that the entire fabric warp and woof
had stayed the same new blossom in each bower
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

for fear of learning just how great the goof
would harm the doer dread would them devour
no one this day shall say they stood aloof

the acts are real we see that there's no spoof
of change or meaning the old world we scour
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

today we saw the crowds from every roof
acclaim as honour took the seat of power
no one this day shall say they stood aloof
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

there are no answers but the simple fact
that we have asked will make some things more clear
even to those for whom the worlds appear
as cheap illusions or as the abstract
daubings of visions that might not attract
the subtler gaze here in this colder air
what we must ask is that the wise compare
the truths of things and then that they just act
not all who reach this place have learnt to look
at the right angles where they might discern
those matters not for ordinary sight
yet what we find in not so secret book
for those who have the time truly to learn
is that there is each day for all some light

in this stark universe no secrets left
for hawk-eyed seekers that's what we must know
to keep our minds still centred on the flow

of bodies moving with uncertain heft
from truth to fact like water from the snow
in this stark universe no secrets left

so what we find is that some sort of theft
has changed the weight of matters it is so
uncertain now and we are trapped below
in this stark universe no secrets left

resounding horns in deep glittering cave
not music now nor urgent call of hunt
a message that is both banal and blunt
containing nothing that we need or crave
yet full of meaning those who are so brave
may striking upward swiftly to confront
the enemy who blasts may hear them grunt
with sudden shock of nothing left to save
our hope is not in music nor in joy
of victory hard won by those who fought
without the expectation of reward
we seek instead the means to best employ
the tools of wisdom and the ways of thought
to bring about best means of good accord

those places that are marked on every map
we drew in childhood to ensure our play
had structure in the mind that they would stay
solidly longer than the infant pap
of other games would drift through every nap
shaping the dream out of imagined clay
to make a brightness greater than the day
when ordinary life was only crap
from word to vision the true path is clear
so that you take it with eyes truly cold
through the divisions of a world in strife
with all the forces that would shred and tear
your heart and spirit as you become old
reject them all and choose the better life

all that we know has been subject to loss
of definition and of common sense
so we make of the remnant a pretense
and aim to sneak our last hard words across
the barrier between plain truth and dross
but find that we are caught up on that fence
lacking a guide and with no good defense
our coins have come up wrong side on the toss
no messengers will reach the happy place
where children think that justice is at home
to  give report now that is no regret
for those who stand to win or lose in grace
or find what's hidden underneath the foam
the seat is ready and the board is set

far out beyond the eastern shore
where all our senses ought to fail
the howling realm of shark and whale

exist dim hints of something more
another place on larger scale
far out beyond the eastern shore

what's there is easy to ignore
the oceans are too wide to sail
waters are deep winds loudly wail
far out beyond the eastern shore

not only sounds but senses we require
to build the worlds in which our hearts will fit
all meanings in the end must add to fire

in order that we see that those who hire
the truth in stages do not crimes commit
not only sounds but senses we require

to bring our vision to a place that's higher
beyond the limits where the foolish sit
all meanings in the end must add to fire

when what comes after means we must retire
from all our options while the times permit
not only sounds but senses we require

for matters that will lead all to aspire
far past the normal so that atoms split
all meanings in the end must add to to fire

that is the certainty life is no liar
she's the true joker the mistress of wit
not only sounds but senses we require
all meanings in the end must add to fire

when after hard night’s sleep you wake to shock
of world everted by some horrid act
that frightens into childhood though the fact
is not so dangerous as to unlock
those charging monsters that good adults block
assuring you that though we've been attacked
the enemy will suffer the impact
and we will be as stalwart as the rock
the sounds of battle will not this day reach
our tender ears the voices urge stay calm
just go about your life and do your duty
yet they are silent those who ought to teach
the urgent lesson that there is no balm
to ease the pain and no way back to beauty

some answers teach us that we have to ask
in simple words but make the complex set
of terminologies our broadest net
the tool that's aptest for this ample task
of abyssal exploring those who bask
on  the warm hills they who will never get
how hard the job is whose feet are not wet
they'll not discern the world behind the mask
but on some morning when the mists depart
those who go furthest out may well discern
in the sharp moment of deepest desire
the one thing missing to complete each heart
at the right moment when the waters burn
with the clear light of universal fire

now spring appears all verdant on the scene
there's weight of dust and water in the air
all eyes are taken by the sudden green

the change of seasons never comes quite clean
but winter's going with one sort of care
now spring appears all verdant on the scene

to reassure us that the great machine
continues working now the signs are fair
all eyes are taken by the sudden green

the starting colours almost seem obscene
after the starkness yet we cannot fear
now spring appears all verdant on the scene

as roughnesses are covered by a screen
of leaves and blossoms and now we stare
all  eyes are taken by the sudden green

of trees and bushes that we had long seen
bare and asleep so now a new affair
now spring appears all verdant on the scene
all eyes are taken by the sudden green

cliff-dwelling swallows in the dryer vent
are a connection that we have to face
between free nature and the harsh rat race
at intersection of domestic content
where meaning  action symbol and intent
all come together in a single place
as bird and woman each concede a space
and neither knows just what the other meant
the niche that out of nature has been set
for me to watch as swallows make their home
is given proper purpose by the flight
of urgent swallows leaving as the wet
signals of springtime depart from the dome
of bluing sky and cheer  me by the sight

there are some gains from adding years to life
then there are losses from the very start
that cannot be avoided by the art
or skill that teaches ease of horrid strife
although the world with pain and death is rife
we don't just throw the bodies on the cart
and pass on by each of us has some heart
yet still we know we must go under knife
no magic keeps us hidden from the fact
that life's a process with an ending point
and not some bird forever on the wing
this play must reach at last the closing act
the times must be put into proper joint
and winter come long after the bright spring