Epitaph On The World Poem by Henry David Thoreau

Epitaph On The World

Rating: 3.6


Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Erasmus Of Rivenfjord 10 April 2018

If only poetry was written like this nowadays

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Wallace Kaufman 19 October 2018

Such poetry is still written but seldom published. As the poet Marilyn Hacker observed, Poetry seems to have been eliminated as a literary genre, and installed instead, as a kind of spiritual aerobic exercise- nobody need read it, but anybody can do it.

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Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau

Concord, Massachusetts
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