As hope and fear alternate chase
Our course through life's uncertain race.
When change itself can give no more,
'Tis easy to be true.
Hereditary
Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change.
That we would do,
We should do when we would; for this "would"
And hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this "should" is like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing.
The love of wicked men converts to fear;
That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both
To worthy danger and deserved death.
All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral;
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.
I am not so nice,
To change true rules for old inventions.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Life may change, but it may fly not;
Hope may vanish, but can die not:
Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;
Love repulsed,—but it returneth.
Men must reap the things they sow,
Force from force must ever flow,
Or worse; but 'tis a bitter woe
That love or reason cannot change.
Nought may endure but Mutability.
Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan! is to be
Good, great, and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire and Victory.
This sad vicissitude of things.
The life of any one can by no means be changed after death; an evil life can in no wise be converted into a good life, or an infernal into an angelic life: because every spirit, from head to foot, is of the character of Ins love, and therefore, of his life; and to convert this life into its opposite, would be to destroy the spirit utterly.
Corpora lente augescent, cito extinguuntur.
Bodies are slow of growth, but are rapid in their dissolution.
Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range.
Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change.
The stone that is rolling can gather no moss.
Who often removeth is suer of loss.</poem>
So, when a raging fever burns,
We shift from side to side by turns;
And 'tis a poor relief we gain
To change the place, but keep the pain.
Life is arched with changing skies:
Rarely are they what they seem:
Children we of smiles and sighs—
Much we know, but more we dream.
"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old!
But something ails it now; the spot is curst."
As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low.
I heard the old, old men say,
"Every thing alters,
And one by one we drop away."
They had hands like claws, and their knees
Were twisted like the old thorn trees
By the waters.
I heard the old, old men say,
"All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters."
