A few more times, and then no more.
A few more times I'll write my pain.
A few more times I'll write my joy.
I have sung such songs!  Sweet and sore;
Of Ceres and her golden grain,
And living days that wax and wane,
And unripe crops whose harvest fell to blain.
Yet also, so much love and joy!  So much happiness!
That broke free from the blain to bless;
But especially, I recall all my happiness
Before all this--in health, before.
Before a rain erased my score,
And now in vain my dreams implore.
And now in pain, my dreams deplore
The hidden snares set up for men.
A snare with bane has caught me in a gripping gin,
And I cannot break free again.
So I sang some songs of frown and smile,
And still will sing a little while.
Of dwindling pleasure, growing pain;
Of losses suffered on heels of gain;
Of frets of what remains in store;
Of hopes of what may yet remain.
Like all my loving years of yore,
And lonely times I would not fain.
I've lost my flowers of rapport.
With some sweet ladies I have lain;
Congress over-sweet to cloy;
It all was sugar in the rain,
And falling time soon did destroy
The dreams that rose from sleep, and then--
So briefly wakeful--fell asleep again.

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Written by Michael LP
On Tuesday, October 22, 2012  7:34 AM PDT
59 degrees F.   Humidity: 41%    Forecast: fair
Copyright (C) 2012 by Michael LP.  All rights reserved
(Copyrighted for my estate)