AS I approach the last of all my days, So brief by reason of its dower of pain, Light-footed time speeds swiftly from my gaze And faith in him proves profitless and vain. Then to myself I say: "A little space And we will sing no more at Love's behest, Like snow these earthly chains will melt apace And we be gathered peacefully to rest. Since Love must pass away, even so must all The dreams for which we bartered heaven and earth, Our fears, our sorrows, and our boist'rous mirth; Then we shall know how oft it doth befall That men strive after things of trivial worth, And sigh for that which matters not at all." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRST SNOWFALL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL MAN, THE MAN-HUNTER by CARL SANDBURG SOUTH WIND by SIEGFRIED SASSOON ALL THIS by REBA MAXWELL AVERY THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE SHORE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON EVENING SONG: 4 by JOHN VANCE CHENEY |