What if a day, or a month, or a year Crown thy delights with a thousand sweet contentings? Cannot a chance of a night or an hour Cross thy desires with as many sad tormentings? Fortune, Honour, Beauty, Youth Are but blossoms dying; Wanton Pleasure, doting Love, Are but shadows flying. All our joys are but toys, Idle thoughts deceiving; None hath power of an hour In our lives' bereaving. Earth's but a point to the world, and a man Is but a point to the world's compared centre: Shall then the point of a point be so vain As to triumph in a silly point's adventure? All is hazard that we have, There is nothing biding; Days of pleasure are like streams Through fair meadows gliding. Weal and woe, time doth go, Time is never turning: Secret fates guide our states, Both in mirth and mourning. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE by JAMES GALVIN FACADE: 7. MADAME MOUSE TROTS by EDITH SITWELL THE MEMORY OF MARTHA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL CHILD OF THE ROMANS by CARL SANDBURG |