 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
138
DEATH
Why should mans high aspiring mind
Burn in him with so proud a breath
When all his haughty views can find
In this world yields to death
The fair the brave the vain the wise
The rich the poor & great & small
Are each but worms anatomys
To strew his quiet hall
Burn in him with so proud a breath
When all his haughty views can find
In this world yields to death
The fair the brave the vain the wise
The rich the poor & great & small
Are each but worms anatomys
To strew his quiet hall
Power may make many earthly gods
Where gold & briberys guilt prevails
But deaths unwelcome honest odds
Kicks oer the unequal scales
The flattered great may clamours raise
Of power & their own weakness hide
But death shall find unlooked for ways
To end the farce of pride
Where gold & briberys guilt prevails
But deaths unwelcome honest odds
Kicks oer the unequal scales
The flattered great may clamours raise
Of power & their own weakness hide
But death shall find unlooked for ways
To end the farce of pride
An arrow hurtled eer so high
From een a jiants sinewy strength
In times untraced eternity
Goes but a pigmy length
Nay whirring from the tortured string
With all its pomp of hurried flight
Tis by the skylarks little wing
Out measured in its height
From een a jiants sinewy strength
In times untraced eternity
Goes but a pigmy length
Nay whirring from the tortured string
With all its pomp of hurried flight
Tis by the skylarks little wing
Out measured in its height
Just so mans boasted strength & power
Shall fade before deaths lightest stroke
Laid lower than the meanest flower
Whose pride oertopt the oak
& he who like a blighting blast
Dispeopled worlds with wars alarms
Shall be himself destroyed at last
By poor despised worms
Shall fade before deaths lightest stroke
Laid lower than the meanest flower
Whose pride oertopt the oak
& he who like a blighting blast
Dispeopled worlds with wars alarms
Shall be himself destroyed at last
By poor despised worms
Tyrants in vain their powers secure
& awe slaves murmurs with a frown
But unawed death at last is sure
To rap the babels down
A stone thrown upward to the sky
Will quickly meet the ground agen
So men gods of earths vanity
Shall drop at last to men
& awe slaves murmurs with a frown
But unawed death at last is sure
To rap the babels down
A stone thrown upward to the sky
Will quickly meet the ground agen
139
Shall drop at last to men
& power & pomp their all resign
Blood purchased thrones & banquet halls
Fate waits to sack ambitions shrine
As bare as prison walls
Where the poor suffering wretch bows down
To laws a lawless power hath past
& pride & power & king & clown
Shall be deaths slaves at last
Blood purchased thrones & banquet halls
Fate waits to sack ambitions shrine
As bare as prison walls
Where the poor suffering wretch bows down
To laws a lawless power hath past
& pride & power & king & clown
Shall be deaths slaves at last
Time the prime minister of death
Theres nought can bribe his honest will
He stops the richest tyrants breath
& lays his mischief still
Each wicked scheme for power all stops
With grandeurs false & mock display
As eves shades from high mountain tops
Fade with the rest away
Theres nought can bribe his honest will
He stops the richest tyrants breath
& lays his mischief still
Each wicked scheme for power all stops
With grandeurs false & mock display
As eves shades from high mountain tops
Fade with the rest away
Death levels all things in his march
Nought can resist his mighty strength
The pallace proud triumphal arch
Shall mete their shadows length
The rich the poor one common bed
Shall find in the unhonoured grave
Where weeds shall crown alike the head
Of tyrant & of slave
Nought can resist his mighty strength
The pallace proud triumphal arch
Shall mete their shadows length
The rich the poor one common bed
Shall find in the unhonoured grave
Where weeds shall crown alike the head
Of tyrant & of slave
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |