Touched with the delicate green of early May, <br />Or later, when the rose uplifts her face, <br />The world hangs glittering in starry space, <br />Fresh as a jewel found but yesterday. <br />And yet 'tis very old; what tongue may say <br />How old it is? Race follows upon race, <br />Forgetting and forgotten; in their place <br />Sink tower and temple; nothing long may stay. <br />We build on tombs, and live our day, and die; <br />From out our dust new towers and temples start; <br />Our very name becomes a mystery. <br />What cities no man ever heard of lie <br />Under the glacier, in the mountain's heart, <br />In violet glooms beneath the moaning sea!<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/even-this-will-pass-away/
