The Frailty Of Life - Poem by Rita Jette
As the grass does wither, and soon fades away,
So the frail life here, in its limited day.
As the wind blows hither, and then goes its way,
So man in his sphere, visits a limited day.
As the clock ticks thither,
and pleads will not sway,
So death comes to gather.
The frail life in its day.
Comments about The Frailty Of Life by Rita Jette
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You