LIFE'S a veil the real has: All the shadows of our scene Are but shows of things that pass On the other side the screen. Time his glass sits nodding by; 'Twixt its turn and turn a spawn Of universes buzz and die Like the ephemeris of the dawn. Turn again the wasted glass! Kingly crown and warrior's crest Are not worth the blade of grass God fashions for the swallow's nest. Kings must lay gold circlets down In God's sepulchral ante-rooms, The wear of Heaven's the thorny crown: He paves His temples with their tombs. O our towered altitudes! O the lustres of our thrones! What! old Time shall have his moods Like Caesars and Napoleons; Have his towers and conquerors forth. Till he, weary of the toys, Put back Rameses in the earth And break his Ninevehs and Troys. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOST ART by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A MOTH FOUND ON THE FLOOR by EDNA M. BECKER |