ALL the flowers of the spring Meet to perfume our burying; These have but their growing prime, And man does flourish but his time: Survey our progress from our birth -- We are set, we grow, we turn to earth. Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites! Sweetest breath and clearest eye Like perfumes go out and die; And consequently this is done As shadows wait upon the sun. Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SNOW-SHOWER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT UPON THE DEATH OF SIR ALBERT MORTON'S WIFE by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS THE BURNING OF THE TEMPLE by ISAAC ROSENBERG TO SHELLEY by JOHN BANISTER TABB A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE by WALT WHITMAN ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA (2) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |