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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 105 |
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Though there be thousand bright actions embalmed
and enshrined, Myriads and millions of brighter are snow in the wind.
in Solomon! where is thy throne ? It is gone in the
wind. Babylon ! where is thy might ? It is gone in the wind. All that the genius of man hath achieved or designed Waits but its hour to be dealt with as dust by the
wind.
IV
Say, what is Pleasure ! A phantom, a mask undefined. Science ? An almond, whereof we can pierce but the
rind. Honor and Affluence? Firmans that Fortune hath
signed, Only to glitter and pass on the wings of the wind.
v Solomon ! where is thy throne ? It is gone in the wind. Babylon ! where is thy might ? It is gone in the wind. Who is the Fortunate ? He who in anguish hath pined ! He shall rejoice when his relics are dust in the wind !
VI
Mortal! be careful with what thy best hopes are entwined ;
Woe to the miners for Truth—where the Lampless have mined !
Woe to the seekers on earth for—what none ever find !
They and their trust shall be scattered like leaves on the wind. |
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