The spider knits its silver web,
In hope to seize a falling star,
While all the while the moon does ebb,
Still gazing at it from afar.
...
All mortal creatures pass away
Like shadows of a winter's day;
Those ecstasies that we pursue
Which crimson youth once thought it knew,
...
Mere words alone cannot express
The hurt which in me I do feel,
For now I am companionless,
A soul which Nature thought to steal
...
Where have you gone. How did those years
Turn now into so many tears.
The small expressions of your face
And eyes which leave no earthly trace.
...
I am a ghost among the crowd
Between the living and the dead,
As a shadow or passing cloud
I drift without a home or bed.
...
Who profits while the people pay,
Both blood and oil stain the earth,
Peace comes through war, or so they say,
And intermix with equal worth.
...
If I should wake up and be old,
I'll lie beneath a willow tree,
To let rememembrances unfold
Of all that I once used to be.
...
On Death's dark path, my friend has gone,
That final road we fear to tread,
Confined to dust, a light which shone
How all too brief, for He is dead.
...
Beneath the dome of ancient night,
When owls awake, and poets write,
My lover sleeps, the sylvan child,
With flowers that are strange and wild.
...
With eyes of anguish, and of pain,
In desperation look on me;
Eyes that blaze from out that pane,
Disturbed in their fragility.
...