Cypress - The Language of Flowers

Cypress

Mourning

They came and went like shadows,
The blessed dreams of youth,
And they left behind no impress
Or record of their truth.
Then the future was all sunshine,
In gorgeous robes arrayed.
But ever as I've reached it,
Its sunshine turned to shade.
I've seen the colours fading
From all that I could prize,
Like day's departing glories
From out the sunset skies;
And fully roughly I have ridden
The stormy tide of life,
And long years have passed in struggling,
In bitterness and strife.

T.B. Thaver.