Away! Away! The mist-wrapped dawn,
Low-anchored clouds now drift upon
a parcel of vain strivings tied,
bound by the time’s fleeting stride.
I am the sun—yet pale, undone,
A poet’s delay, a season’s run.
Men say they know, yet grasp at air,
Like wingéd smoke, a faithless prayer.
Thus is life as the spirited soul leaps,
across fields where reapers’ hands have reaped.
What’s a human life to the brook,
That hums where nature’s voice has shook?
Oh, sympathy—soft light that gleams,
A conscience etched in worldly dreams.
The hawk still wheels, the reflections swell,
Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell.
From time’s hush to time’s sigh,
All things are current, passing by.
Away! Away!—the river bends,
And prayer dissolves where silence ends.
WoPoLi 
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