OH! let the soul its slumber break, Arouse its senses and awake, To see how soon Life, with its glory, glides away, And the stern footsteps of decay Come rolling on. And while we eye the rolling tide Down which our flowing minutes glide Away so fast, Let us the present hour employ, And dream each future dream of joy Already past. Let no vain hope deceive the mind; No happier let us hope to find To-morrow than to-day. Our golden dreams of yore were bright: Like them, the present shall delight; Like them, decay. Our lives like hasting streams must be, That into one engulfing sea Are doomed to fall, -- The sea of death, whose waves roll on O'er king and kingdom, crown and throne, And swallow all. Alike the river's lordly tide, Alike the humble rivulet's glide, To that sad wave; Death levels poverty and pride, And rich and poor sleep side by side Within the grave. Our birth is but the starting-place, Life is the running of the race, And death the goal; There all those glittering toys are brought: The path alone of all unsought Is found of all. Say, then, how poor and little worth Are all those glittering toys of earth That lure us here! Dreams of a sleep that death must break: Alas! before it bids us wake, Ye disappear! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RELIEVING GUARD by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH FOUR SONNETS: 3 by FRANK DAVIS ASHBURN FIGHT! (HARVARD-DARTMOUTH FOOTBALL GAME, 1908) by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE INDIAN DANCER by ANNA TILLMAN BOYD |