fleeting hour

I HAVE lost my summer; there is no spring to engreen my sing;
Even the autumn’s rains have fell.
But the snow lasts in its singe.

I have lost my hours, they fell like sand.
Only grey blusters in front now,
Which bare no merit, nor gay.

It is empty waiting, sightless gazing
A wretched hour of facing the truth everblazing,
And to singe your face in it’s taste sour.

Make haste ye hope; send regards to the ones I love (d).
And vainfully do your stupid show, and play your plays (carefully) plan’d

Alas! Gnarl’d hope, whencefore ye emergeth from of my eyes slope?
Why crave to show that which I so dearly from others hide?

Yet, you had no power; for as darkness’ befoul’d by light,
Before her, you are such; relieved of might.

And strive now into vanity, by your self foul’d,
Stay enclosed in my heart, like this fleeting hour.

Nevertheless I'm gone