This Life, oh it is far too brief.
That traitor, Time, steals like a thief,
but days are long when songbirds sing:
sweet sounds they share this sacred spring.
These hours, when golden rays feel warm
(cut short by sudden senseless storm)
still shine sublime inside my soul,
a memo crafted to console.
These lines, laid down before I pass,
(as dew drop pearls that grace the grass,)
will fade, like poet\'s toils and tears,
to leave sweet dreams of golden years.