Stood Who Last, Those Last Departing

Ti’s a pity for pity to not find,
in an hour such as this its way
to those who adhered in its hind
and lead the bleak souls of dismay,
from fates blackened, vacant hope,
joyless aim, and aimless hunger,
into such hopes which did elope
with equal lives fore them asunder.
Doth not suffice for wretchedness
to have such monuments in woe,
but as its wonting shall it dress
all glory red, for us to know.
I watch their children emerging
with languid eyes and weary airs
from their fathers side weeping
to bleed in their due place unfair.
I hope for children of their thence
I fear for children their instead
host to fates made recompense
for our fates all else I dread.
Who are they, who muffled suffer,
tears of whom know slumber none,
life whom perchance silenced utter
which hath found its rest in some,
for those in whom is yet to set,
those who have not yet to feign
apathy to the breath of death
I fear have found in departing gain.

Last Monsoon

When the drops of rain shall deign
to cease descending on my land,
harken they shall not just vane
most sunrise but too days most bland.
Surely I shall miss most sorely
the scent of warm and humid earth,
and of my darling sweating only
to have my kisses fulfill her dearth.
Hard has been this monsoon dear,
dark have been my noons so grey,
but then I recall light so near
has never made more lifeless clay.
Pools shall linger, stand and wait
for all those steps of playful lovers,
wilted feet to warmth shall mate
and sun in greatest sight discover,
no more drops of earnest thought
nor ripple shall those mirror moons,
and all those days I dearly sought
shall depart with our last monsoon.