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Eclipse of the Moon

a few street people, a few kings:
halo and crown
must tumble down
and in the dust at last be laid
with the better-deserving maid.
Some men with swords may reap the field
and plant fresh laurels where they kill.
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
they tame but one another still.
Early or late
they stoop to fate
and must relax their straining thighs
for in their place another lies.
The garlands wither on her brow;
he boasts no more his mighty deed;
upon Time's purple altar now
see where she bleeds, or does not bleed:
all grief must come
into this room;
yet, the attractions of the bust
say, life is sweet and lovely, just.
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Song
lovers come and go
under the trees
together and apart
that's how it is
lovers go
the old ardour stays
joy lasts a day
love lasts forever
lovers leave
leaving the old love grieving
joy departs
pain remains
pain and joy remain
lovers are always leaving
all lovers go
love, all love, love, stays
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