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Life Irrevocable


How broken is the road, how cruelly Steep,

Alas, poor Man in sorrow needs essay I

He may not pause, he has no time to weep ;

Tears on his path are children of delay ;

And who can tell how far he has to roam.

Ere Fate relenting bids her servant home ?


The shadowy bridge of Time its ample span

Extends, unveiling hour by hour to view ;

And o'er it constantly the foot of man

Moves, in the passing Seasons* retinue ;

Yet would that foot one Step withdraw—Tis vain—

The mighty causey melts in cloud again.


May not the past return ? Ah, never more.

We whisper through the void, and none replies ;

Our sheaves are harvested and winnowed o'er;

Our Stubbles all are naked ; Autumn dies

And love of life. Yea, is not Love a dream,

A bubble adrift on Lethe's drowsy Stream ?


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