Now the thrill of wings is brief,
Mindless of the sky,
Quiet you, my heart of grief,
Beating Why, and Why?

Let the morrow have a care
For the morrow's need.
Fade along the hush of air,
Burden of the weed!

Not to-night shall any leaf
Urge its way anew;
No more hope, no joy, no grief:
Only dark, and dew.