Days, They are so Few

¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ today
A leaf I tear;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
Without a care.
And ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gentleness of June
Will ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ fly
¦¦¦ I will greet the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ moon
Of ¦¦¦¦ July.

Beloved months ¦¦¦ soon ¦¦¦ pass,
¦¦¦¦¦ I see
The ¦¦¦¦ sand silvering the glass
Of Time for me;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ midwinter woe
I wait with rue,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I grudge the days ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
They are so few.

A ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gayful thing
To grace a room;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ with joy of life I sing,
With ¦¦¦¦¦¦ gloom
I add this ¦¦¦¦¦ month of May
To ¦¦¦¦¦¦ past,
Thinking each page ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
May be my last.


(Blackout of My Calendar by Robert William Service)