Weltschmerz

The roots of life’s tree
have loosened their grip
the leaves shrivel and tremble
old age has seen enough
and longs for rest and sleep -

not yet the shadow of death
only the weariness and ceaseless grind
dimmer grow the once-inspired eyes
which are cast now on the descending sunset -

love, long-suffering love
heaves such a heavy sigh
still it has an unyielding grip
though Weltschmerz has drawn by.