Another Spring

Out of the depths of days foregone The light of hope may flicker still, Although the charm of youth has run Away to bend our strength and will. Descending faster than a hawk Whose claws hold fast their aching prey, The ghost of time may never talk If shining dawn has naught to say; And yet your memory is close— Much closer than the road to joy— And blooms like autumn’s lonely rose To challenge winter’s frosty ploy. Away from light, away from all, The winds of solitude remain The only voice to heed the call Of all whom grief and time can blame. A further aeon may go by Before another spring arrives To warm the earth, to kiss the sky And call the bees from empty hives. Yet, then, the chain of life shall break For me, for you, for all we are, And scatter us away to make More space for younger seeds afar.