 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
MEMENTO MORI.
What says the Clock of Time,
With sad and solemn chime?
I see its white and spectral face,
I hear it through the halls of Space,
With muffled voice that seems to cry,
As the dim dreary hours go bye,
That ancient and familiar story,
“Memento mori.”
With sad and solemn chime?
I see its white and spectral face,
I hear it through the halls of Space,
With muffled voice that seems to cry,
As the dim dreary hours go bye,
That ancient and familiar story,
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of man,
Who lives his little span?
It tells of sorrow and of sin,
That suffering heart which beats within,
Which measures for each toiling day
The hopes that blossom to decay—
It speaks in dying dreams of glory,
“Memento mori.”
Who lives his little span?
It tells of sorrow and of sin,
That suffering heart which beats within,
Which measures for each toiling day
The hopes that blossom to decay—
It speaks in dying dreams of glory,
“Memento mori.”
650
What says the clock of God,
Above the greenest sod?
It strikes upon the walls of stone
The doom of its deep undertone,
At which all earthly splendours bow—
It spells for the most haughty brow,
Above the boldest promontory,
“Memento mori.”
Above the greenest sod?
It strikes upon the walls of stone
The doom of its deep undertone,
At which all earthly splendours bow—
It spells for the most haughty brow,
Above the boldest promontory,
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of Time,
That throbs through every clime?
The same calm ghostly knell gives out,
Beyond the strife of fear and doubt—
Beyond the cries that come and go,
And all this trivial ebb and flow,
While kingdoms sink in sunsets gory—
“Memento mori.”
That throbs through every clime?
The same calm ghostly knell gives out,
Beyond the strife of fear and doubt—
Beyond the cries that come and go,
And all this trivial ebb and flow,
While kingdoms sink in sunsets gory—
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of man,
Who ends where he began?
I know it bids the teardrop start,
I feel it in this breaking heart—
Yea, childhood's happy years move round,
To the one grave and awful sound,
That tolls, as when the days are hoary,
“Memento mori.”
Who ends where he began?
I know it bids the teardrop start,
I feel it in this breaking heart—
Yea, childhood's happy years move round,
To the one grave and awful sound,
That tolls, as when the days are hoary,
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of God,
Pointing with judgment rod?
It sighs, Things human turn to dust,
And nothing lives but love and trust—
Strong friendships fail, bright honours pass;
And grace, more fleeting than the grass,
Calls from earth's dark depository,
“Memento mori.”
Pointing with judgment rod?
It sighs, Things human turn to dust,
And nothing lives but love and trust—
Strong friendships fail, bright honours pass;
And grace, more fleeting than the grass,
Calls from earth's dark depository,
“Memento mori.”
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |