A dog, that has ten years of breath, Can count the number left to me, To reach my seventy as a man. In five years' time a bird is born,Whose shorter life is then my own, Reducing still the human span. Soon after that, a butterfly, Who lives for but a year or less, Reminds me that the end is near; And that, when I have lived his life, A shorter life is still to come — Which brings the Summer's insect here. And when at last that insect comes, That lives for but a single day, He makes my life his very own: Man, dog, and bird and butterfly And insect yield their separate lives — And Death takes all of us as one. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH CLOISTER by ROBERT BROWNING A MORE ANCIENT MARINER by BLISS CARMAN TO MADAME DE SEVIGNE by MATHIEU DE MONTREUIL THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 18 by OMAR KHAYYAM A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE by WALT WHITMAN TO A FRIEND WHOSE WORK HAS COME TO NOTHING by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WORLD-MILLER by FRANCES BARBER |