SPRING, summer, autumn, winter, Come duly, as of old; Winds blow, suns set, and morning saith, "Ye hills, put on your gold." The song of Homer liveth, Dead Solon is not dead; Thy splendid name, Pythagoras, O'er realms of suns is spread. But Babylon and Memphis Are letters traced in dust: Read them, earth's tyrants! ponder well The might in which ye trust! They rose, while all the depths of guilt Their vain creators sounded; They fell, because on fraud and force Their corner-stones were founded. Truth, mercy, knowledge, justice, Are powers that ever stand; They build their temples in the soul, And work with God's right hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BRAVE OLD OAK by HENRY FOTHERGILL CHORLEY SONNET: 151 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A HIGH-TONED OLD CHRISTIAN WOMAN by WALLACE STEVENS THE FLIGHT OF THE GODDESS by CELIA THAXTER TO A SISTER OF CHARITY by EDWIN GEORGE ALEXANDER PARADISE by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 2. THE THIRD SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) HOME, SWEET HOME WITH VARIATIONS: 4. AUSTIN DOBSON by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |