My mother, my dear mother, oh!
You love me more than me!
Are such rhymes rather cheap today?
I write them heartily.
...
Revelries are simply the smoke-rings of time.
Acquaintances are mere words that do not rhyme.
And fast-blowing winds shall fly those rings away.
But there shall be words which rhyme with you every day.
...
What happened b’yond the sky
That people called it heaven’s tears?
Do Gods and Angels cry
Hid by the clouds and it appears?
...