I. Now fie upon him! what is Man, Whose life at best is but a span? When to an inch it dwindles down, Ice in his bones, snow on his crown, That he within his crazy brain Kind thoughts of Love should entertain, That he, when harvest comes, should plow, And when 'tis time to reap, go sow, Who, in imagination only strong, Though twice a child, can never twice grow young. II. Nature did those design for fools, That sue for work, yet have no tools. What fellow-feeling can there be In such a strange disparity? Old age mistakes the youthful breast, Love dwells not there, but Interest: Alas, good man! take thy repose, Get ribband for thy thumbs and toes. Provide thee flannel, and a sheet of lead, -- Think on thy Coffin, not thy Bridal Bed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A LUTE FOUND IN A SARCOPHAGUS by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE A PRAYER FOR A VERY NEW ANGEL by VIOLET ALLEYN STOREY AUTUMN AND SPRING by JULIA COOLEY ALTROCCHI THE FORLORN ONE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE EMANCIPATION OF HIS MISTRESS' PERFECTIONS by FRANCIS BEAUMONT THE YEARS TO BE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 42. FAREWELL TO JULIET (4) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |