The wise man spends his life, alas
Till sand is low in hourglass
And never finds his true desire
The one to which all hearts aspire
No measure half is mirrored there
In eyes so blue 'neath golden hair
An older love does pale to shame
Poor spark it is to brilliant flame
It fills the heart, it braids the rope
When else is gone, springs forth sweet hope
We see the world...eternal Spring
When born afresh, the angels sing
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 1:55 PM UTC
The wise man spends his life, alas
Till sand is low in hourglass
And never finds his true desire
The one to which all hearts aspire
No measure half is mirrored there
In eyes so blue 'neath golden hair
An older love does pale to shame
Poor spark it is to brilliant flame
It fills the heart, it braids the rope
When else is gone, springs forth sweet hope
We see the world...eternal Spring
When born afresh, the angels sing
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