He walked with Pleasure every idle hour, Eluding virtue while he followed joy. With careless freedom, conscious of his power, He formed his friendships only to destroy. Men called him heartless; women shed vain tears. He scoffed at creeds that pointed him to prayer. His selfish days slipped into numbered years Without a pause; and none were left to care. Then came a moment that remorse gave check; He turned to charity to cloak his wrong. His waking conscience, long a shadowed wreck, Applied for peace in penitential song. No bribe had strength to add an extra day -- A chill wind mourns alone above his clay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLIND GOD by ISAAC ROSENBERG SUMMER WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT STABAT MATER DOLOROSA by JACOPONE DA TODI HOPE AND FEAR by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE DARKNESS OF EGYPT by MARIA ABDY IMAGES: 1 by RICHARD ALDINGTON |