 | Poems by Bernard Barton |  |
166
“ALL IS VANITY.”
Oh! what can be more frail
Than all this world can grant us?
Why should its power avail
So often to enchant us?
Than all this world can grant us?
Why should its power avail
So often to enchant us?
In vain the chase, when won,
Declares our hopes defeated;
Lur'd by fresh object on,
We cherish what has cheated!
Declares our hopes defeated;
Lur'd by fresh object on,
We cherish what has cheated!
In childhood, any toy
For one short hour amuses;
And all its store of joy
With its new lustre loses.
For one short hour amuses;
And all its store of joy
With its new lustre loses.
The boy keeps up the game,
Just as the child began it;
For boyhood's joyous flame
Needs novelty to fan it.
Just as the child began it;
For boyhood's joyous flame
Needs novelty to fan it.
167
The youth, when beauty's eye
First wakes the pulse of pleasure,
Thinks, with a pensive sigh,
That he has found life's treasure.
First wakes the pulse of pleasure,
Thinks, with a pensive sigh,
That he has found life's treasure.
How oft the smile he woo'd,
Proud beauty has denied him,
While, in capricious mood,
It beam'd on all beside him.
Proud beauty has denied him,
While, in capricious mood,
It beam'd on all beside him.
And oh! how many an one
Has gain'd, and fondly nurs'd it;
Then, by that smile undone,
With bitterness has curs'd it.
Has gain'd, and fondly nurs'd it;
Then, by that smile undone,
With bitterness has curs'd it.
Existence further scan,
In all its various stages;
View it in ripen'd man,
In hoary-headed sages:—
In all its various stages;
View it in ripen'd man,
In hoary-headed sages:—
What pleasure can it give,
Except it stoop to borrow;
And lead us on to live
On bliss to be—to-morrow?
Except it stoop to borrow;
And lead us on to live
On bliss to be—to-morrow?
If rapture's brightest hour
Be soon by sorrow shaded;
If pleasure's fairest flower
Scarce bloom before 'tis faded:
Be soon by sorrow shaded;
If pleasure's fairest flower
Scarce bloom before 'tis faded:
168
If proud ambition's steeps
But dazzle to deceive us;
If vales, where soft love sleeps,
Allure, then lonely leave us:
But dazzle to deceive us;
If vales, where soft love sleeps,
Allure, then lonely leave us:
If wealth, with all its toys,
Shrink at death's stern ordeal;
If fancy's boasted joys
Be, like herself, unreal:
Shrink at death's stern ordeal;
If fancy's boasted joys
Be, like herself, unreal:
What can this world bestow
That should enchain us to it?
Or compensate the woe
All bear, who journey through it?
That should enchain us to it?
Or compensate the woe
All bear, who journey through it?
O, man! if to this earth
Thy heart be wedded, only;
Each hope it can give birth
Will leave thee doubly lonely:
Thy heart be wedded, only;
Each hope it can give birth
Will leave thee doubly lonely:
And, when that hope is gone,
Thou'lt find, by all forsaken,
Thy spirit lean'd upon
A reed, by each wind shaken!
Thou'lt find, by all forsaken,
Thy spirit lean'd upon
A reed, by each wind shaken!
| Poems by Bernard Barton | |