Your lead
Date: Saturday, 7th June 2014 @ 05:48:24 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry


Contributed By: mick

To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.

If you can not stop for Death –
he kindly stopped for you –
The Carriage will hold but just yourselves –
and immortality.

We slowly drove – you knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For your civility.

This poem is Copyright © mick



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