This extravqagance we'll enjoy awhile,
for short grows each passing mile,
more potent are the days gone by,
more precious the speeding hour that flies.
Sadly, now there will be little green
upon the harshness of the winter's scene.
So, in solemn fraility, I'll then reside
by the desolate dying fireside;
but; before the web of life has spun
and before the haloed journey past the sun,
and before the passing of the night,
again my vision will with passion ignite
the glowing embers, and once again caress
the remembered pain of too little happiness.