Dreams & Dust/Envoi

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.

What heart hath not, through twilight places, Sought for its dead again To gild with love their pallid faces? . . . Sought in vain! . ..

Still mounts the Dream on shining pinion. . . Still broods the dull distrust. . . Which shall have ultimate dominion, Dream, or dust?

A little while with grief and laughter, And then the day will close; The shadows gather. . . what comes after No man knows!