"All Is Vanity, Saith the Preacher"
Fame, Wisdom, Love, and Power were mine,And Health and Youth possessed me;My goblets blushed from every vine,And lovely forms caressed me;I sunned my heart in Beauty's eyes,And felt my soul grow tender;All Earth can give, or mortal prize,Was mine of regal splendour.
I strive to number o'er what daysRemembrance can discover,Which all that Life or Earth displaysWould lure me to live over.There rose no day, there rolled no hourOf pleasure unembittered;And not a trapping decked my PowerThat galled not while it glittered.
The serpent of the field, by artAnd spells, is won from harming;But that which coils around the heart,Oh! who hath power of charming?It will not list to Wisdom's lore,Nor Music's voice can lure it;But there it stings for evermoreThe soul that must endure it.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.