eBooks Base 2000

'
Thou knowest these things, let thy wisdom chide thy sorrow, saying--
'Halt, traveller! rest i' the shade: then up and leave it!
Stay, Soul! take fill of love; nor losing, grieve it!'
But in sooth a wise man would better avoid love; for--
'Each beloved object born
Sets within the heart a thorn,
Bleeding, when they be uptorn.'
And it is well asked--
'When thine own house, this rotting frame, doth wither,
Thinking another's lasting--goest thou thither?'
What will be, will be; and who knows not--
'Meeting makes a parting sure,
Life is nothing but death's door.'
For truly--
'As the downward-running rivers never turn and never stay,
So the days and nights stream deathward, bearing human lives away.'
And though it be objected that--
'Bethinking him of darkness grim, and death's unshunned pain,
A man strong-souled relaxes hold, like leather soaked in rain.'
Yet is this none the less assured, that--
'From the day, the hour, the minute,
Each life quickens in the womb;
Thence its march, no falter in it,
Goes straight forward to the tomb.


Pages:
125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149