In the terrible trauma of birth,
Out of the warmth of the womb,
We emerge to inherit the earth,
But travel alone to the tomb !


We came from the Paleozoic slime
And will the stars attain,
Evolving, adapting, through aeons of time,
By a sensitive pattern of pain !


As dark and light and laughter goes,
So all things, sometime, must have end;
And, in this life's uncertain trend,
The day on which a new bud blows
May mark the fading of a rose.


Were half the world to be for me
A fragrant Summer rose,
One only wish for me, to be
The other half, all nose!

And, if harsh winter came to end
My days of perfumed ease,
Let showers of shattered rose descend
In hemispheres of sneeze!!



Other work by Namur King




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