In all we do, and hear, and see, <br />Is restless Toil and Vanity; <br />While yet the rolling earth abides, <br />Men come and go like Ocean tides; <br />And ere one generation dies, <br />Another in its place shall rise. <br />That sinking soon into the grave, <br />Others succeed, like wave on wave; <br />And as they rise, they pass away. <br />The sun arises every day, <br />And hastening onward to the west <br />He nightly sinks but not to rest; <br />Returning to the eastern skies, <br />Again to light us he must rise. <br />And still the restless wind comes forth <br />Now blowing keenly from the north, <br />Now from the South, the East, the West; <br />For ever changing, ne'er at rest. <br />The fountains, gushing from the hills, <br />Supply the ever-running rills; <br />The thirsty rivers drink their store, <br />And bear it rolling to the shore, <br />But still the ocean craves for more. <br />'Tis endless labour everywhere, <br />Sound cannot satisfy the ear, <br />Sight cannot fill the craving eye, <br />Nor riches happiness supply, <br />Pleasure but doubles future pain; <br />And joy brings sorrow in her train. <br />Laughter is mad, and reckless mirth, <br />What does she in this weary earth? <br />Should wealth or fame our life employ, <br />Death comes our labour to destroy, <br />To snatch th' untasted cup away, <br />For which we toiled so many a day. <br />What then remains for wretched man? <br />To use life's comforts while he can: <br />Enjoy the blessings God bestows, <br />Assist his friends, forgive his foes, <br />Trust God, and keep His statutes still <br />Upright and firm, through good and ill -- <br />Thankful for all that God has given, <br />Fixing his firmest hopes on heaven; <br />Knowing that earthly joys decay, <br />But hoping through the darkest day.<br /><br />Anne Brontë<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/vanitas-vanitatis-etc/
