Time does fade a dreamer's wish,
Till nothing but an itch exists:
Life it loads desire's wings,
Till they forget of what they sing.
Fate it breathes a distant day
That waits in quiet for its say:
Sometimes thunder, sometimes breeze,
To many notes its tune is keyed.
Desire reaches moment naught,
When man he hears the song fate wrought:
Most have hands that dreams slip through:
Though wingèd, dreams take flight in few.
Anonymous