It seems to me the sun shines much less brightly;
High clouds obscure what used to be my joy,
And what is left of it is now unsightly,
To make an undesirable alloy:
Electrum made of ugliness and dark
Lacks all the beauty that should shine from gold
Or silver's charm - instead it does a stark
Violence upon my eyes. I'm told
It passes, and the sun returns again,
Not with all rapid speed, but yet someday.
Gracious to think, but then I must ask when
(You know I have no patience anyway).
Only the knowledge this was once my sun
Undoes the ugliness that time has done.
No comments:
Post a Comment