Brevity is not the Soul of Death
The coach goes whizzing by and briefly swan
And blackthorn come in frame upon, beside
The springtime silver of the Thames. Soon gone,
They all are gone. Yet, if we took the wide
View, saw them longer in our time, they still
(Not still) would be phenomena made brief
By facts. Buds, swan, and, yes, the blackthorn will
Go down to death. The life of man and leaf,
Unequal though they be, are short compared
To Thames and galaxies. But these will die,
Too. Eons pass and nothing can be spared.
Stars swell and crunch, and rivers all run dry.
..The swan is beautiful on water, flower
….On limb, the white bird feathers last an hour.