He spake; -- from vanity, it seem'd to be; Was silent; still he saw 'twas vanity. He own'd his vainness; vanity took possession Of that most sad confession. He vow'd to kill the weed, and strove to do 't, And hew'd and hack'd down to the very root: Alas, rank vanity would still be thriving And prosp'ring even in that very striving. Then fell he down and pray'd: -- Lord, take my breath, And save me from the body of this death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DRUMS AND BRASS by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON THE JOBHOLDER by DAVID IGNATOW GETHSEMANE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |