Lethe

Why must
I dwell on dust
On this sunny day?
‘Tis the thought that all this will fade away,
Yet there is still time to play
Ere the sun
Does run
Into the arms
Of night.

Sometimes I think
Her charms
Are sweet,
For who has not forgot
Regret in the arms
Of sleep?

The river of lethe
May take us unawares.
Vacant stares
We bestow
On family and friends
For we know
Them not.

I think ’tis better to die
Than to lose the plot
And linger on
Though one’s essence has gone.

But the weather is hot
And ther...