Classic Poem

ON THE FALL OF A BATH URN FROM ITS PEDESTAL,

All that breathes , and all that lives ,
Are the Heralds of decay:
Art is eloquent, and gives
Hints of death, as well as they:

From its pedestal is torn,
Broke into a mouldering heap,
Sculpture, that a mass had borne,
Like the rock, that stems the deep.

Vain is now its Grecian form;
Vain the chisel's flowing art;
Such is Nature's pelting storm;
Youth must fly — and Beauty part.

These, alone, were Man to lose,
He'd lament, but he'd survive;
In expanded hopes and views,
To enjoyment, yet alive.

But the loss he cannot bear
Is of Nature's filial prize;
And the tears are of Despair ,
When the Angel-mother dies.