Ah, what can stay the flying years? Can goodness or can grace? Time's furrow all too soon appears To mar each mortal face. There's not a wight of noble birth, There's not a simple soul, However stationed upon earth, But owes the Boatman toll. Why worry over war's alarm? Why crouch when tempests rage? The coat that keeps a body warm Is not a hermitage. Farewell to weans; farewell to wife; Farewell to groves and glades: Only the cypress, loathed in life, Shall squire you to the shades. And farewell cellar's goodly hoard— A boon to legatee: "Put the best bottle on the board; I'll drink a health," says he. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: WRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR. LEIGH HUNT LEFT PRISON by JOHN KEATS SUNSET WINGS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PROSOPOPOIA, OR MOTHER HUBBERDS TALE by EDMUND SPENSER PAN IN WALL STREET by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN IN THE FOREST by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |