Poems of Jonathan ROBIN
The era of pleasure is over for ever,
prosperity palls, seldom fails to appal.
When seeking some sanity see we should sever
last links with societal sirens that call
after all with fast laughter, considering never
that Man’s many illusions to dust must soon fall,
as dispassionate Death’s thrall not even keen, clever,
can ever avert, all are measured withal.