BRITTLE BEAUTY
Brittle beauty, that Nature made so frail,
Whereof the gift is small, and short the season;
Flowering to-day, to-morrow apt to fail;
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (born 1516/17, executed 19 January 1547)
Open your heart to the grateful dead
to all those who choose to live instead.
to all those who choose to live instead.
Learn to walk in another man’s shoes
not to avert your gaze
when all the world’s ablaze.
Give all that you have
with sweet nothing in return,
see a-new in the wilderness
of time and with the eyes of a child in rhyme.
not to avert your gaze
when all the world’s ablaze.
Give all that you have
with sweet nothing in return,
see a-new in the wilderness
of time and with the eyes of a child in rhyme.
Do not count on money, my friend,
its value comes and goes,
count your hours, your days
count all the boons of love
scattered on the bitter winds of loss.
its value comes and goes,
count your hours, your days
count all the boons of love
scattered on the bitter winds of loss.
Let the ephemeral currency of love
into your life. For all that remains
of you is love;
time flashes by
leaves us high and dry
on the borders of eternity
with a light glint
in the westerly sky.
into your life. For all that remains
of you is love;
time flashes by
leaves us high and dry
on the borders of eternity
with a light glint
in the westerly sky.
