I am but one ash of many,
Remnant of a by-gone fire
Quelled by wind.
I am but of body liquescent,
Mid the showers that brings the mighty tempest.
I am but a leaf of divers,
Anon to fall from agéd branch
As Autumn arrives, and the erst warmth retires.
I am but of common nature,
Who has not the beauty nor uniquity
Of Summer’s flowers,
Nor bids the eye inquisitive
Of the wanderer.
Lo! By dint of Winter’s dawn
Alas, I am to wither.
Supplanted by life anew
And forgotten thereafter.