Classic Poem

Whate'er begins must end. So say
Philosophers both old and new;
And nature's round — birth, fruit, decay —
Doth prove the adage true.

Snug in the unripe acorn's coat
A fallen oak tree slumbereth;
The new-born infant's lusty throat
Must rattle soon in death.

And so, whatever hath no end
Never began and ne'er was born;
Its origin and finish blend
As night fades into morn.

Infinity was by a ring
In former ages signed and taught;
Surely a plain and simple thing,
Yet food for grandest thought.

God is the end and final cause,
The Alpha and Omega He,
Before beginnings, more than laws,
He was and is to be.

And if our souls are plumed to flit
Through being's circle, near and far,
They lived before the sun was lit
Or heaven had a star.

Oh, listen, Brothers, listen well!
It were a cheerful thing to hear
An angel harp or shriek from hell
To rid us from this fear.

For we are brutes or prisoned gods;
And there is none of us can guess
What life we passed before these clods,
This vile forgetfulness.