Classic Poem

The glory of Life is fleeting;
Its splendour passeth away,
With tints and odours meeting
The flowers we twined to-day.

How brightly, in varied light,
They reflected the morning sun;
But the chilling dews of the nigh
Withered them one by one.

So the stream of Existence floweth
O'er the golden sands of youth,
In the light of a joy that gloweth
From the depths of its love and truth.

BuTheavy, and cold, and fast,
The gathering clouds uprise,
Eclipsing the light, which east
On the waters a thousand dyes.

And onward, in sullen endeavour,
Like a stream in a sunless cave,
It floweth in darkness ever:
Yet — could we thus reach the grave!

But we wake to a sorrow deeper —
The knowledge of all we have lost;
And the light grows fainter and weaker
As we're borne from youth's sunny coast.

Yet onward with drifting motion,
Still farther from life and light;
Around us a desert Ocean —
Above us eternal Night.