VILLANELLE.
Life, thou art vaguely strangely sweet,
Thy gladness fills our throbbing veins,
But Death comes on with footsteps fleet.
With rapture men each morning greet,
And spite of losses, cares and pains.
Life, thou art vaguely strangely sweet.
We, while with health our pulses beat,
Heed not the falling hour glass grains,
But Death comes in with footsteps fleet.
Our lips may say "Life is a cheat,"
But 'tis of Death our heart complains;
Life, thou art vaguely strangely sweet.
For one hour more do men entreat,
As life within them quickly wanes,
But Death comes on with footsteps fleet.
Many we miss, but him we meet,
He is a guest whom nought detains;
Life, thou art vaguely strangely sweet,
But Death comes on with footsteps fleet.
James Ashcroft Noble.