poet Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau

#99 on top 500 poets

Epitaph On The World

Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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Comments about Epitaph On The World by Henry David Thoreau

  • Erasmus Of RivenfjordErasmus Of Rivenfjord (4/10/2018 4:30:00 PM)

    If only poetry was written like this nowadays

    Report Reply
    Wallace Kaufman(10/19/2018 1:34:00 PM)

    Such poetry is still written but seldom published. As the poet Marilyn Hacker observed, Poetry seems to have been eliminated as a literary genre, and installed instead, as a kind of spiritual aerobic exercise- nobody need read it, but anybody can do it.

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Read poems about / on: silver, world