by
The mortal hour
is candle burnt
The love of life
is not yet learned
The sacred moon
with shadows cast
The end is soon
but we are not the last
Our faces show
the death-lit hour
We yearn it so
and yet we cower
Alone in our sorrow
which only by us is felt
Our sun will not see the morrow
for the immortal life to us is dealt.
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