The Sadness

[THE AMERICAN]
Who ever knew the English spring
Could be so dazzling?
Who would have thought the first of May
Could touch one so?

The misty morning, the brightening skies
The catkins that beckon the bees and the butterflies
Oh, the sadness
How can I explain?

The gravestone, faded and worn by the rain
That batters the hedgerows and rattles the weathervane
Oh, the sadness
This inexplicable sadness—
You won't understand
How can I explain?

Beauty is fleeting, evanescent
Meadow, blossoms, bees
All of it fading, evanescent
Castle and sky

[THE AMERICAN & THE WRITER]
And trees— (And the eye that sees)

What an insightful child you are (I understand you perfectly)
You understand it perfectly (You find beauty saddening)
I do
Isn't that odd? (But it isn't odd!)
Odd, and yet true (I do, myself, sometimes)
Odd, and yet true

[THE WRITER]
The sadness is this
We are dying

[THE AMERICAN & THE WRITER]
The sadness is this
Like all that we see
We are dying

[THE AMERICAN & THE WRITER]
So gather ye rosebuds (Gather ye rosebuds)

[THE AMERICAN & THE WRITER]
While ye may