Say, silent Moth, Why thou hast let The midnight come, And no dance yet. Man's life is years, Thy life a day; Is thine too long To be all play? Man's life is long, He lives for years; So long a time Breeds many fears. Thy life is short: Whate'er its span, Life's worth seems small Be't Moth or Man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FATHER WILLIAM [QUESTIONED], FR. ALICE IN WONDERLAND by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON GOOD AND BAD LUCK by HEINRICH HEINE EVENING CLOUDS by FRANCIS LEDWIDGE THE HAUNTED PALACE by EDGAR ALLAN POE BURNING STRAWPILES by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE LAST MAN: RAIN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ASPIRATIONS: 6 by MATHILDE BLIND |