Time's Burden

What will become of us-
When Youth passes us on-
What will become of our glee-
And endless dreams-
When Time has wrought them dry-
When age has sallowed our Love-
And rendered Lust a miser-
Sense affronted our gangs of Lies-
And censured Them on us-
Will we sing- With focused hearts-
Or touch as tender- As before-
Will we sink- Amid the ashes-
Or limp- Ill-willed- Back for More-

Innocent (in a sense)

Dream of me, please!
Dream of a happiness; of a bright new sin!
Dream, my love -- Dream us up --
A world rich in everything!

Oh, wish me a symphony!
Wish me a rainbow racked with colours so bright!
Wish me this, my One -- For we'll soon become --
Ingredients in our own delight!