Читать книгу A Book of Christian Sonnets - william Allen - Страница 24

20. DEATH. Job 14. (notes)

Poor man, of woman born, is child of woe;

His days are few and fill'd with bitter grief,

With cares and pains, from which is no relief,

Till scythe of death shall lay his blossoms low.

The gen'rous tree cut down will once more grow,

And spread its branches after ruin brief

Loaded with fruits almost beyond belief;—

Such pow'r have living roots, that creep below.

But man decays, and wastes away, and dies,

His noble frame dissolving in the ground,

His spirit fled—ah, whither who can say?

Beneath the valley's clod in sleep profound

He rests, and there the sleeper quiet lies,

Till earth shall burn and heav'ns shall flee away.