Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine, <br />And health and youth possessed me; <br />My goblets blushed from every vine, <br />And lovely forms caressed me; <br />I sunned my heart in beauty’ eyes, <br />And felt my soul grow tender; <br />All earth can give, or mortal prize, <br />Was mine of regal splendour. <br /> <br />I strive to number o’er what days <br />Remembrance can discover, <br />Which all that life or earth displays <br />Would lure me to live over. <br />There rose no day, there rolled no hour <br />Of pleasure unembittered; <br />And not a trapping decked my power <br />That galled not while it glittered. <br /> <br />The serpent of the field, by art <br />And spells, is won from harming; <br />But that which soils around the heart, <br />Oh! who hath power of charming? <br />It will not list to wisdom’s lore, <br />Nor music’s voice can lure it; <br />But there it stings for evermore <br />The soul that must endure it.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-is-vanity-saith-the-preacher/
