Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

After James Shirley

"The glories of

our blood and state"

The stresses of the single life

are shadows, not substantial things;

a little love, a little strife,

a few street people, a few kings:

halo and crown

must tumble down

and in the dust at last be laid

with the better-deserving maid.

Some men with swords may reap the field

and plant fresh laurels where they kill.

But their strong nerves at last must yield;

they tame but one another still.

Early or late

they stoop to fate

and must relax their straining thighs

for in their place another lies.

The garlands wither on her brow;

he boasts no more his mighty deed;

upon Time's purple altar now

see where she bleeds, or does not bleed:

all grief must come

into this room;

yet, the attractions of the bust

say, life is sweet and lovely, just.

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