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 Life is a stream
On which we strew
Petal by petal the flower of our heart;
The end lost in dream,
They float past our view,
We only watch their glad, early start.
Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall know.
And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone Ever beyond into infinite ways.
We alone stay While years hurry on, The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.

Poem by Amy Lowell
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