A BUSY dream, forgotten ere it fades; A vapor, melting into air away; Vain hopes, vain fears, a mesh of lights and shades, A checkered labyrinth of night and day -- This is our life; a rapid, surging flood, Where each wave haunts its fellow; on they press; To-day is yesterday; and Hope's young bud Has fruited a to-morrow's nothingness; Still on they press, and we are borne along, Forgetting and forgotten; trampling down The living and the dead in that fierce throng, With little heed of Heaven's smile or frown, And little care for others, right or wrong, So we in iron selfishness stand strong. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER MATURES by HELENE JOHNSON WINTER EVENING by ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN SNAKE by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE WANDERING JEW by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN SONNET TO CHARLOTTE M-- by BERNARD BARTON TO A PROFILE by BERNARD BARTON |