QUATRAINS
I
The Love Chase
On, towards the purlieus of impossible space,
From Death, enamoured, Life, capricious, flies:
Communicated sorrow of his face
Freezing her ever backward burning eyes.
II
The Garden of Days
Man’s days are planted as a flower-bed
With labor’s lily and the rose of folly:
Beneath grief’s cypress, pale, uncomforted,
The phantom fungus blooms of melancholy.
III
Faith and Facts
With starry gold Night still endorses what
Man’s soul hath written, guessing at the skies:
Day on Night’s scribble drops a fiery blot,
And ’thwart the writing scrawls, “The lie of lies.”