Alas, hardpressed the whirling orbs <br />And swift Titan hie fleeting hours, <br />And cleave delights with woe avid <br />Death might - fast on us, she strides! <br /> <br />Whilst I, onward, mark more the deep <br />Shadow of my wrongs that prey untold <br />On a heart cowed now by constant woe, <br />And with tears, my youthful faults I rue. <br /> <br />Power, delights, wealth, such ado, <br />Tho ne'er for naught, 'tis ill they work, <br />For our desire they turn astray <br />From its rightful bliss (God we name). <br /> <br />Brief gains! O blissful a hundredfold <br />Who knows quick these shadows' true shape!<br /><br />Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-i-8/
