Classic Poem

Be still for a moment, thou weariful world!
Thy wheels they go faster and faster;
I have bowed to thy will, I have followed thy beck,
I have worn, uncomplaining, thy yoke on my neck,
But I will not acknowledge thee master.

Thy beautiful trinkets I hold in my hands;
I cannot but smile at thy story;
The lily-bells ring and the birds fly in flocks,
The vines and the mosses creep over the rocks,
The clouds are as banners of glory.

Like blossoms the butterflies flit here and there,
And birds in the branches are singing;
The children are mocking at sorrow and care,
There's music and laughter afloat in the air,
And flowers in the meadows are springing.

A wonderful pageant! I see it go by;
And beauty and ashes are blended;
Keeping step with the others, I march to and fro,
But I feel all the time like a child at a show,
That he knows, in an hour, will be ended.

Be still for a moment, thou weariful world!
Thy wheels they go faster and faster;
I have bowed to thy will, I have followed thy beck,
I have worn, uncomplaining, thy yoke on my neck,
But I will not acknowledge thee master.

Thy beautiful trinkets I hold in my hands;
I cannot but smile at thy story;
The lily-bells ring and the birds fly in flocks,
The vines and the mosses creep over the rocks,
The clouds are as banners of glory.

Like blossoms the butterflies flit here and there,
And birds in the branches are singing;
The children are mocking at sorrow and care,
There's music and laughter afloat in the air,
And flowers in the meadows are springing.

A wonderful pageant! I see it go by;
And beauty and ashes are blended;
Keeping step with the others, I march to and fro,
But I feel all the time like a child at a show,
That he knows, in an hour, will be ended.