AH woe is me for pleasure that is vain, Ah woe is me for glory that is past! Pleasure that bringeth sorrow at the last, Glory that at the last bringeth no gain. So saith the sinking heart; and so again It shall say till the mighty angel-blast Is blown, making the sun and moon aghast, And showering down the stars like sudden rain. And evermore men shall go fearfully, Bending beneath their weight of heaviness; And ancient men shall lie down wearily, And strong men shall rise up in weariness: Yea even the young shall answer sighingly, Saying one to another 'How vain it is!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SPECK ON THE DOT by BERTON BRALEY MIDSUMMER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 29 by THOMAS CAMPION TO A.L.; PERSUASIONS TO LOVE by THOMAS CAREW THE VERMONTER DEPARTING by SARAH NORCLIFFE CLEGHORN VERSES FOR ALFEO FAGGI'S STATIONS OF THE CROSS by PADRAIC COLUM |