Men are but as dreams

Mere memories to be kept,

For as long as men live, it seems,

And in weeping as we have slept

Erasing memories that burn

Fiery, beneath the skin.

Men are thoughts, we learn,

Or whispers in the wind

That fadeth and grow

At the rising and the falling

Within the mind’s flow

In the leaving and the calling.

Yet past, present, and future mirror men,

For whate’er we do, we must learn to live with them.