Vanity

Why all these toil and tussle tear us apart?
We're here today, gone tomorrow,
Life's but a fleeting shadows!

Thrones shall tumble,
And the fields another be.
Whereat Solomon's ilks?
O' world's but the potter's will!

Look! the lustre lilies,
Springing  in the meadow
Splendour of a thousand eyes stare
Tis a stack of hay at eventide!

The rich's glory on the poor's misery;
The world's unfairly just!
Someday, shall the pen grow barren
And the sword impotent,
O' life's but a mystery!

Up the castle a pile of miner's gold
Yet rideth none to Elysian
Whence misery gives a cold embrace,
Wealth's but a fleeing bird!

The world's a little stage, goodness shall keep names alive:
O' ants and nature shall teach us virtues-
Of lore than pedagogs can

Whence strife an inferno upon a thatched roof!
Up up man to a reconcile table with our Maker!

When nature trumps:
Hills and vales shall bow,
And the hoes and sceptre wither!
O' life's but vanity!