Our Fleeting Hour Poem by Nellie Isabelle Steward Cooper

Tormented by unrelenting distress and dread
a thought of this is always in the head

I can easily understand that given the here
and now someone would be choosing

To go on stellar voyages, thinking in light years away,
immerse themselves in pulsars, quasars, black holes

And an interesting myriad of other unworldly endeavors:
also considering an ever expanding universe

As for me, I lie down in the open field by the fresh
new flower and enjoy our fleeting hour