LIFE AND I.

Life and I are lovers, straying

Arm in arm along:

Often like two children Maying,

Full of mirth and song.

Life plucks all the blooming hours

Growing by the way;

Binds them on my brow like flowers;

Calls me Queen of May.

Then again, in rainy weather,

We sit vis-a-vis,

Planning work we'll do together

In the years to be.

Sometimes Life denies me blisses,

And I frown or pout;

But we make it up with kisses

Ere the day is out.

Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,

Try his trust and faith,

Saying I shall one day leave him

For his rival Death.

Then he always grows more zealous,

Tender, and more true;

Loves the more for being jealous,

As all lovers do.

Though I swear by stars above him,

And by worlds beyond,

That I love him — love him — love him;

Though my heart is fond;

Though he gives me, doth my lover,

Kisses with each breath —

I shall one day throw him over,

And plight troth with Death.