Lament for a Language


Oh, weep for our land of quick passing day!
Sigh for the words now passed for ever far
From the ken of living men and peace or war,
And sad lament our language in decay
Long fallen from disuse, and cast away!
Sigh not for those who lie under the sod,
For they sleep on the bosom of their God,
And from these earthly cares have passed away.
But it is ever so: kings, sceptres, thrones,
Must totter and unto the dust return
Whence they were sprung in temporary pride to burn.
All man has owned, will ever own, and owns,
One common fate awaits, death slow but dire;
Yet man himself should pass to something higher!