ALAS for this world's changes and the lot Of sublunary things! yon wig that there Moves with each motion of the inconstant air, Invites my pensive mind to serious thought. Was it for this its curious caul was wrought Close as the tender tendrils of the vine With cluster'd curls? Perhaps the artist's cane Its borrowed beauties for some lady fair Arranged with nicest art and fingers fine; Or for the forehead fram'd of some divine Its graceful gravity of grizzled grey; Or whether on some stern schoolmaster's brow Sate its white terrors, who shall answer now? On yonder rag-robed pole for many a day Have those dishonour'd locks endur'd the rains And winds, and summer sun, and winter snow, Scaring with vain alarms the robber crow, Till of its former form no trace remains, None of its ancient honours! I survey Its alter'd state with moralizing eye, And journey sorrowing on my lonely way, And muse on fortune's mutability. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEA-GRAVE by SARA TEASDALE ON A FAIR BEGGAR by PHILIP AYRES THE SILLER CROUN by SUSANNA BLAMIRE FLORAL DECORATIONS FOR BANANAS by WALLACE STEVENS LINES FROM A PLUTOCRATIC POETASTER TO A DITCH-DIGGER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |