I
Perhaps,
God, planting Eden,
Dropped, by mistake, a seed
In Time's neighbor-plot,
That grew to be
This hour?
II
You and I picked up Life and looked at it curiously;
We did not know whether to keep it for a plaything or not.
It was beautiful to see, like a red firecracker,
And we knew, too, that it was lighted.
We dropped it while the fuse was still burning. . .
III
I am going to die too, flower, in a little while
Do not be so proud.
IV
The sun is dying
Alone
On an island
In the bay.

Close your eyes, poppies
I would not have you see death.
You are so young!
V
The sun falls
Like a drop of blood
From some hero.

We,
Who love pain,
Delight in this.