'Tis not for man to trifle! Life is brief. And sin is here. Our age is but the falling of a leaf, A dropping tear. We have no time to sport away the hours; All must be earnest in a world like ours. Not many lives, but only one have we— One, only one; How sacred should that one life ever be— That narrow span! Day after day filled up with blessed toil, Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) SPEAKIN' O' CHRISTMAS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE WOOING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR FORERUNNERS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON TIRED MOTHERS by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN by ALFRED TENNYSON LACHRYMAE MUSARUM (THE DEATH OF TENNYSON) by WILLIAM WATSON GOOD-BYE MY FANCY! by WALT WHITMAN FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTERS SOLD INTO BONDAGE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |