20 Sept 2020: "Grieve Not" by Walter Clyde Curry

 Grieve Not

Grieve not that winter masks the yet quick earth,
        Nor still that summer walks the hills no more;
        That fickle spring has doffed the plaid she wore
To swathe herself in napkins till rebirth.

These buddings, flowerings, are nothing worth;
        This ermine cloud stretched firm across the lakes
        Will presently be shattered into flakes;
Then, starveling world, be subject to my mirth.

I know that faithful swift mortality
        Subscribes to nothing longer than a day;
        All beauty signals imminent decay;
And painted wreckage cumbers land and sea.

I laugh to hear a sniveling wise one say,
“Some winnowed self escapes this reckless way.”


from The Fugitive, 1922

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