The goblets all are broken, The pleasant wine is spilt, The songs cease; if thou wilt, Listen, and hear truth spoken. We take thought for the morrow, And know not we shall see it; We look on death with sorrow, And cannot flee it. Youth passes like the lightning, Not to return again; Just for a little bright'ning The confines of a plain; Gilding the spires, and whitening The grave-stones and the slain. Youth passes like the odour From the white rose's cup, When the hot sun drinks up The dew that overflowed her: Then life forsakes the petals That had been very fair; No beauty lingers there, And no bee settles. But when the rose is dead, And the leaves fallen; And when the earth has spread A snow-white pall on; The thorn remains, once hidden By the green growth above it; A darksome guest unbidden, With none to love it. Manhood is turbulent, And old age tires; That, hath no still content, This, no desires. The present hath even less Joy than the past, And more cares fret it: -- Life is a weariness From first to last: -- Let us forget it. Fill high and deep: -- but how? The goblets all are broken. Nay then, have patience now: For this is but a token We soon shall have no need Of such to cheer us: The palm-branches, decreed, And crowns, to be our meed, Are very near us. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CARELESS GALLANT by THOMAS JORDAN SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 16. VENUS INCARNATE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) FROM MY WINDOW by BERTHA SCOFIELD BRADBURY LAURA'S SONG by OLIVER MADOX BROWN OCTOBER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A SONG FOR ANNE by JOAN CAMPBELL |