Days As Moments In A Play Poem by Nero CaroZiv

My days are passing as the moments are passed at a play;
The seasons of the year chase each other as a day does another day;  
Old days dreams are not good, not invigorating dreams 
The bright sun is extinguished, frail in the sky are her beams

And at night the stars do wander darkling lost in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the happy earth for me is bestowing no grace
Shadows; phantoms of the sky swing blind and blackening in the moon­less air;
For me morning  comes and go- and come; yet it brings no new hope or glare

I am a man who forgot all his passions in the dread of wilting decaying end
The world is closing over my desolation; and in my heart my fear is bent 
And chilled into a selfish prayer for my passed gone light:
That I did live, the fields that were full youth and vigor bright

When the plains were fresh with grass, wild and bare
Open wide, savage growth that was opening to the spring air
Beauty sprouted and built up around and everywhere
Beautiful exciting earth with brilliance so captivating in rare

My burden is heavy; yet I shade no tear
The fields with wild flowers will bloom another year

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