SECURE within his citadel, my heart, <br />A roystering King, has quaft his goblets brimm'd <br />At pleasure's sparkling fount,—has quaft and slept <br />Has hugg'd the phantom of delight—and slept <br />Not dreaming from his sleep he'd e'er awake <br />To find his towers a ruin, and his bliss <br />Sepulchred in the dust: but now, alas! <br />The truth discover'd, he assumes his staff <br />And walks the world, and when he'd halt, lest <br />Should build another citadel, and play <br />The merry fool he played—a voice exclaims: <br />'Reflect!—the Earthquake!' and he halteth not.<br /><br />Joseph Skipsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/undeceived/
