Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LIFE'S FALLACY, by CHARLES V. H. ROBERTS
First Line: All seeming hollow, all thy joys are naught!
Last Line: With griefs thou weavest alone in heart.
Subject(s): Death; Grief; Sickness; Dead, The; Sorrow; Sadness; Illness
All seeming hollow, all thy joys are naught!
When deem'st thou fortune is within thy hand,
Its golden wings and heralds athwart thy way,
The lowlier bed of sickness yawns for thee:
The House of Death cannot be bought with wealth.
The lamps of honour are pretentious lights,
But darken quickly in the vicious Draught.
Pledge a piastre for the truth of this,
With joys thou hast thy friends in webs,
With griefs thou weavest alone in heart.
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