BUBBLES OF THE FOAM

So Life's sad Sunset prizes
What Life's gay Dawn despises,
And always Winter wise is
When Summer is no more:
While Love than lightning fleeter
Turns all he touches sweeter,
To leave it incompleter
Behind him, than before.

Amara

Years, looking forward, all too slow,
Yet looking back, too fast,
What is your joy, what is your woe,
But scented ash that used to glow,
A sandalwood of long ago,
A camphor of the past?