Decay

When darkness reigned at sunrise there,
Nor' gaily gleamed the lofty moon,
A seed, planted in earthy hole,
Is lulled to sleep by the crying loon

In a womb made of angry ashes
a germ grows from the mixing firth
Conferring life back, forth from ruin
in a tide pool of death and birth.

At lazy lilies, I do not wonder,
too picturesque a path they lay.
Yet, tears I shed in joy and marvel
when the same sad flowers decay

Hence when my rhythmic beating ceases,
'though the birds still sing their songs,
Lay me in the lake made basin
by the willow, green and long.