Classic Poem

Oh ! how wondrous are the changes
Ev'ry day and hour we see;
Things to make us ask in wonder,
“Wherefore? and oh! what are we?”
Things more wonderful than fiction,
Or the poet's wildest dreams;
Things enough to make us question
If this world is what it seems.
Change! change! surpassing strange!
What fearful changes come!
The stars grow pale; the prophets fail;
The oracles are dumb.

Men come forth in strength rejoicing,
And they bid the world take note
Of their comings and their goings,
And the mighty works they've wrought.
Deeming that they are immortal,
How like gods they walk the scene!
Time looks in, and, lo! they vanish—
Rubb'd out as they ne'er had been.
Change! change! surpassing strange!
Their pomp, their pow'r, their glory
Are all forgot—were, and are not—
The old eternal story.

Nations spring as 'twere from nothing,
And are mighty in their day—
But to wax and wane and crumble,
And to nothing pass away.
Great Niag'ra, with his thunders,
And the tow'ring Alps sublime,
Earth and sky, with all their wonders,
Bubbles on the flood of time.
Change! change! surpassing strange!
Can such things surely be
All hurried past, and lost at last
In Death's eternal sea?

Oh! Creation's but a vision
Seen by the reflective eye;
But a panoramic pageant
Pictured on the evening sky.
There is nothing here abiding—
There is nothing what it seems;
Airy all, and unsubstantial,
Wavering in a world of dreams.
Change! change! surpassing strange
Is time's eternal chorus!
We hardly know the road we go,
Or the heavens bending o'er us.

Shall we give ourselves to Pleasure?
Drench with wine the brow of Care?
That were but the coward's refuge,
But a hiding from Despair.
Shall we wed us to Ambition,
Led by Fame's alluring round?
Ah! alas, their promis'd glories
End but in a grassy mound.
Change! change! surpassing strange!
There's nothing sure but sorrow;
And we must bear our load of care,
Nor dream of rest to-morrow.

Shall we put our trust in knowledge
Men have garner'd here below?
Ah, the fruit of all their labor's
But a heritage of woe.
Oh! the sum of all the knowledge
Garner'd underneath the sky
Is that we are born to suffer,
Is that we are born to die.
Change! change! surpassing strange!
Our knowledge comes to naught,
And we are fool'd and over-ruled
By ev'rything we sought.