WE, too, shall pass; we, too, shall disappear, Ev'n as the mighty nations that have waned And perished. Not more surely are ordained The crescence and the cadence of the year, High-hearted June, October drooped and sere, Than this gray consummation. We have reigned Augustly; let our part be so sustained That in far morns, whose voice we shall not hear, It may be said: "This Mistress of the sword And conquering prow, this Empire swoln with spoils, Yet served the Human Cause, yet strove for Man; Hers was the purest greatness we record; We whose ingathered sheaves her tilth foreran: Whose Peace comes of her tempests, and her toils." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EFFIGY OF A NUN (SIXTEENTH CENTURY) by SARA TEASDALE IN THE TWILIGHT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL DAUGHTERS OF WAR by ISAAC ROSENBERG A CHRISTMAS CAMP ON THE SAN GABR'EL by AMELIA EDITH HUDDLESTON BARR THREE SONGS OF LOVE (CHINESE FASHION): 1. THE MANDARIN SPEAKS by WILLIAM A. BEATTY |