 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
19
LIFE.
A busy dream, forgotten ere it fades,A vapour, melting into air away,
Vain hopes, vain fears, a mesh of lights and shades,
A chequered labyrinth of night and day,—
This is our life; a rapid surgy flood
Where each wave hunts its fellow; on they press;
To-day is yesterday, and hope's young bud
Has fruited a to-morrow's nothingness:
Still on they press, and we are borne along,
Forgetting and forgotten, trampling down
The living and the dead in that fierce throng,
With little heed of Heaven's smile or frown,
And little care for others' right or wrong,
So we in iron selfishness stand strong.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |