There is no dusk to be,
There is no dawn that was,
Only there’s now, and now,
And the wind in the grass.

Days I remember of
Now in my heart, are now;
Days that I dream will bloom
White the peach bough.

Dying shall never be
Now in the windy grass;
Now under shooken leaves
Death never was.

1 Comment

  1. liz says:

    this poem talks about the true we have to see life like that we can always be living of the past or think about the future. We shoould only think about today living the moment

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