I. <br />I, too, have come to feel and see <br />How little in the world can be <br />Ours, as we pine and pass — <br />How all we long for, know of, love, <br />As in a dream from us remove, <br />Till each becomes the shadow of <br />A light that was. <br />II. <br />We must all somehow be made <br />One with time, that fleeting shade; <br />Until we within the dust <br />Wither as sweet violets must <br />In their own scent, as they lie <br />Like a virgin memory <br />Trembling with its sweetest breath <br />In the mystery of death.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-litanies/
