The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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MANS MORTALITY
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
MANS MORTALITY
Partly from the Scripture
Written in Sickness
Our years look behind us like tales that are told
Our days like to shadows keep passing us bye
That takes a short step to our pillow of mould
& rise on lifes stage like to vapours & dye
As frail as the grass of the meadow is man
His youth like the blossom of summer comes on
That smiles to the sunbeam till autumn turns wan
& the wind passes oer it & bids it be gone
Our days like to shadows keep passing us bye
That takes a short step to our pillow of mould
& rise on lifes stage like to vapours & dye
As frail as the grass of the meadow is man
His youth like the blossom of summer comes on
That smiles to the sunbeam till autumn turns wan
& the wind passes oer it & bids it be gone
468
Thus one generation keeps passing away
& new generations their places retain
& the friends of our bosom that leave us to day
Shall neer fill the circle of friendship again
They go & their lives as if never begun
In the sleep of the grave shall be heard of no more
In future transactions done under the sun
No portion is left them to act as before
& new generations their places retain
& the friends of our bosom that leave us to day
Shall neer fill the circle of friendship again
They go & their lives as if never begun
In the sleep of the grave shall be heard of no more
In future transactions done under the sun
No portion is left them to act as before
Their exit they make to that awful unknown
& vain we conjecture were now they sojourn
The worlds ways & wealth is no longer their own
To their houses & lands they shall never return
All nature tho sown with mortalitys seed
Some parts will a spark of long living retain
As branches the tree thats hewn down will succeed
But man is too mortal to flourish again
& vain we conjecture were now they sojourn
The worlds ways & wealth is no longer their own
To their houses & lands they shall never return
All nature tho sown with mortalitys seed
Some parts will a spark of long living retain
As branches the tree thats hewn down will succeed
But man is too mortal to flourish again
469
Lifes lamp in unscertainty burneth away
A weak waining vapour of doubtfullest light
With cares ever ready to darken its ray
Till death the extinguisher hides it in night
Our friends & our kindred we see them depart
Scant peace of our souls daily tearing away
The dearest of pledges placd nearest the heart
Their memory is all we preserve from decay
A weak waining vapour of doubtfullest light
With cares ever ready to darken its ray
Till death the extinguisher hides it in night
Our friends & our kindred we see them depart
Scant peace of our souls daily tearing away
The dearest of pledges placd nearest the heart
Their memory is all we preserve from decay
Love sweetest of Joy is most bitter to trust
Fates errand before us is constantly set
A time is in waiting to turn into dust
The fairest of faces that love ever met
Death makes no distinction he slays as in night
The wise & the foolish the king & his slave
& beauty that majic of empty delight
All fall at his footstool of terrors—the grave
Fates errand before us is constantly set
A time is in waiting to turn into dust
The fairest of faces that love ever met
Death makes no distinction he slays as in night
The wise & the foolish the king & his slave
& beauty that majic of empty delight
All fall at his footstool of terrors—the grave
| The early poems of John Clare | |