Fixed on the tablet of the hardening sands.
On every face as on the written page
Each year renews the autograph of age;
One trait alone may wasting years defy, -
The fire still lingering in the poet's eye,
Advertisement
While Hope, the siren, sings her sweetest strain, -
Non omnis moriar is its proud refrain.
As to that hour with backward steps I turn,
Midway I pause; behold a funeral urn!
Ah, sad memorial! known but all too well
The tale which thus its golden letters tell:
This dust, once breathing, changed its joyous life
For toil and hunger, wounds and mortal strife;
Love, friendship, learning's all-prevailing charms,
For the cold bivouac and the clash of arms.
Want to keep up with breaking news?
Subscribe to our email newsletter.
Read more in News
The Stoics and St. Paul.
