Classic Poem

Since the far natal hour of earth and heaven,
Men never cease to cry
That ne'er to aught in this our world 'twas given
To last eternally.

If upward gazing on the moon of light
That hangs in heav'n's high plain,
I see her wax, 'twill not be many a night
Before that moon shall wane.

And if in Spring each twig puts forth his flow'r
On all the hills around,
Dew-chill'd and storm-swept in dull Autumn's hour
The leaves fall to the ground,

Such, too, is man : soon pales the ruddy cheek,
The raven locks soon fade;
And the fresh smile of morn 'twere vain to seek
Amid the evening shade.

And I that gaze upon the mortal scene,
My tears flow down for ever,
Where all is viewless as the wind unseen,
And fleeting as the river.