What the Future Brings
Staring out the window, oft is on my mind:
Of what was, what is, and what the days shall bring.
More than once have I searched for a sign
To show that hope is not a long lost thing.
The days, they have become so long
And wearier have they grown;
And the number of dying has grown to a throng
That could defeat a large army alone.
The mirth of times past has left me;
Laughter, too, has gone;
Is it my doom to be so unhappy,
To delight not in what I once thought of as fond?
The future holds only dark days;
Diminished is our strength of the past;
Grown honourless are men's ways;
Our splendour was forgotten so fast!
Staring out the window, despair clouds my eyes:
In my heart grows a terrible dread
Of a world that is filled with lies
And of a world in which only pain is ahead.