 | Voices and visions |  |
80
WHOM THE GODS LOVE
You say that being so old
'Twas time for him to die?
Rings not your comment cold
And even inhuman? Why
Should tenderer tears be shed
When death lays young lives low,
Spared years of sorrow and fret,
Spared age's overthrow?
'Twas time for him to die?
Rings not your comment cold
And even inhuman? Why
Should tenderer tears be shed
When death lays young lives low,
Spared years of sorrow and fret,
Spared age's overthrow?
When young we are called away,
We shirk untold regret;
For austere time will slay
Not merely ourselves, but yet
Brand with authentic sign
His despotisms elsewhere—
Drape wisps of silvering hair
O'er eyes beloved—plough line
And furrow on treasured cheeks.
‘Whom the gods love die young.’ ..
Ah me! there wisdom's tongue
With sovereign accent speaks!
We shirk untold regret;
For austere time will slay
Not merely ourselves, but yet
Brand with authentic sign
His despotisms elsewhere—
Drape wisps of silvering hair
O'er eyes beloved—plough line
And furrow on treasured cheeks.
‘Whom the gods love die young.’ ..
Ah me! there wisdom's tongue
With sovereign accent speaks!
81
Pity the old who die;
The young behind them leave
Such bounteous grief whereby
Fate bids they shall not grieve!
Heart-racked with many a sigh,
Wounded with many a scar,
Pity the old who die;
The young are happier far!
The young behind them leave
Such bounteous grief whereby
Fate bids they shall not grieve!
Heart-racked with many a sigh,
Wounded with many a scar,
Pity the old who die;
The young are happier far!
| Voices and visions | |