Page:What's O'Clock.djvu/62

Cease urging your ears,
My speech has little for them.
Hearken otherwise.

You wrong me, saying:
One death will not kill us both.
Your veins hold my sap.

Keep in remembrance:
Peonies do not blossom
Till Spring is over.

You prefer Spring? Why?
A season's length of hours—
Incalculable.

Days and days—what then?
Is not recurrence a smile
On the face of age?