WHEN mirth is full and free, Some sudden gloom shall be; When haughty power mounts high, The Watcher's axe is nigh. All growth has bound; when greatest found, It hastes to die. When the rich town, that long Has lain its huts among, Uprears its pageants vast, And vaunts -- it shall not last! Bright tints that shine, are but a sign Of summer past. And when thine eye surveys, With fond adoring gaze, And yearning heart thy friend -- Love to its grave doth tend. All gifts below, save Truth, but grow Towards an end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOWER OF SKULLS by ISAAC ROSENBERG VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 4. CAPRI by SARA TEASDALE BALLAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE PLUMPUPPETS by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY CHRISTMAS AFTER WAR by KATHARINE LEE BATES |