A song of the setting sun! <br />The sky in the west is red, <br />And the day is all but done: <br />While yonder up overhead, <br />All too soon, <br />There rises, so cold, the cynic moon. <br /> <br />A song of a winter day! <br />The wind of the north doth blow, <br />From a sky that's chill and gray, <br />On fields where no crops now grow, <br />Fields long shorn <br />Of bearded barley and golden corn. <br /> <br />A song of an old, old man! <br />His hairs are white and his gaze, <br />Long bleared in his visage wan, <br />With its weight of yesterdays, <br />Joylessly <br />He stands and mumbles and looks at me, <br /> <br />A song of a faded flower! <br />'Twas plucked in the tender bud, <br />And fair and fresh for an hour, <br />In a lady's hair it stood. <br />Now, ah, now, <br />Faded it lies in the dust and low.<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moritura/
