A Little While

A little while the tears and laughter,
The willow and the rose--
A little while, and what comes after
No man knows.

An hour to sing, to love and linger. . . .
Then lutanist and lute
Will fall on silence, song and singer
Both be mute.

Our gods from our desires we fashion. . . .
Exalt our baffled lives,
And dream their vital bloom and passion
Still survives;

But when we're done with mirth and weeping,
With myrtle, rue, and rose,
Shall Death take Life into his keeping? . . .
No man knows.