Like a late-year sun declining fast,
All warmth and vigour gone.
Brief time now for wan light to last,
Close a point where there'll be none.

I've never had control or power,
Over that which holds me here.
No say in the season, day or hour,
When from its plan I'll disappear.

And though saddened by the call to go,
To have the vanished world move on.
I accept there's a future I'll never know.
When I'm a presence been and gone.

My waking day is bright and brief,
Earth alone my purpose knows.
On its tree of life a vital leaf,
Through which the wind of Autumn blows.