Decay by Georgia Douglas Johnson — Read

Swift-footed Time, how eagerly you go / Across the swaying summer grasses bed / As on in breathless haste you hurry me / To Winter with its chilling winds and snow.

The noontide hour is fading -- in my hair / The furtive shadows caper and recline.

I tell my beads of amethyst and gold / So near at end, so passing dear and fair.