Sonnet, All Things Must Pass Poem by Peter S. Quinn

All things must pass what of day is here born,
First it gives pleasure and then it is gone;
Like a glow from dawn's new rising pylon,
Light of the day that to dark is forworn.
All what to fate is impaired and forlorn,
Turning to echoes like fading carillon;
Forgot in darkness what once was of dawn,
First it was merry - but now it is lorn.

Dwell not on that - but forget like a wish,
All must wither as this summer so sweet,
That in shades and beauty welter will treat;
Like every thought that will drift from a mind,
Love is the thing that gives most anguish,
And like purest of truth sometimes is blind.