Читать книгу A Book of Christian Sonnets - william Allen - Страница 15

11. MISERABLE OLD AGE.

'Tis weary through the race of life to run,

Expos'd to noon-tide heat and chilly night,

Mid storms, that well the boldest may affright,

When clouds with lightnings arm'd obscure the sun.

Our cares are vain; the good is never won;

Sweet joys are fleeting as the meteor's light;

Unfix'd as shadows are our hopes most bright;

And toil of years is toil but just begun.

Backward from long ascent we turn the eye,

If haply the review may cheer the heart:

The graves of those we love heave through the way.

Forward we gaze: thick mists obstruct the sky,

But precipice is near, from which we start;

Yet naught remains but down to slide and die!