Some little creatures have so short a life That they are orphans born -- but why should we Be prouder of a life that gives more time To think of death through all eternity? Time bears us off, as lightly as the wind Lifts up the smoke and carries it away; And all we know is that a longer life Gives but more time to think of our decay. We live till Beauty fails, and Passion dies, And Sleep's our one desire in every breath, And in that strong desire our old love, Life, Gives place to that new love whose name is Death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE OF WENCHES by FRANCOIS VILLON AUTUMN MORNING AT CAMBRIDGE by FRANCES CROFTS DARWIN CORNFORD THREE KINGS OF ORIENT by JOHN HENRY HOPKINS JR. THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 28 by ALFRED TENNYSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 70, 71. MUKADDIM, MUWAKHIR by EDWIN ARNOLD |