Saturday, 12 May 2012

Sonnet VII

In time all things are worn away
All riddled down by entropy
The sad the strong the weak the gay
Each laughing mouth each thou and thee
We cannot hope to leave a trace
Of muscled arm and painted brow
Even the future of the race
Will be forgotten years from now
But this should not be cause for gloom
It is no shame to pass away
We are but teacups in a room
Once emptied placed upon a tray
If one should shatter on the floor
No cause for grief there's plenty more

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