a shadow measured

a shadow measured changes over time
all of our hearts are filled with blood and thought
but in the end the whole thing counts for naught
not one will hear the morning bells sweet chime
in this cold place nor in a warmer clime
there's nothing that we want that has been caught
but we ourselves know full well we are bought
although our feet are not best for this climb
the noontime shadows now are never short
and summer's pain is but a distant dream
of pavements on which only fools would walk
such things as these no longer have import
instead we watch with hunger the bright gleam
and never notice the high watching hawk