Morn after morn dispels the dark,
Bearing our lives away;
Absorbed in cares we fail to mark
How swift our years decay;
Some maddening draught hath drugged our souls,
In love with vital breath,
Which still the same sad chart
unrolls, Birth, eld, disease, and death.
"Against the Desire of Worldly Things
Last edited by R. M. Dixit; 23-03-2012 at 10:46 AM.