Fair And Brief - Poem by John Freeman
So fair, that all the morning aches
With such monotony!
So brief, that sadness breaks
The brittle spell.
Nothing so fair, nothing so brief:
The sun leaps up and falls.
The wind tosses every leaf:
Every leaf dies.
Blossom, a white cloud in the air,
Is blown like a cloud away.
Must all be brief, being fair?
Yes, night and that high regiment
Of stars that wheel and march,
Ever their bright lines bent
To a secret thought;
Moving immutable, bright and grave,
Fair beyond all things fair;
Though all else vanish, save
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