The cloud that floats in azure skies, the flower that blooms so bright,
The leaf that casts a cooling shade, unnoticed pass from sight.
—Forgotten! can it be that all, the beautiful, the good,
The wise, the great, must buried be, ’neath Lethe’s waveless flood?
Must all this world’s magnificence, its splendid pomp and pride,
The fanes which man has proudly raised, and Time’s strong arm defied,
Oh! must it all return to dust, and from remembrance fade—
Will no faint memory remain, no thought, not e’en a shade?
Alas! it must; thus has it been—thus must it be again;
Who reared the lofty pyramids? Their work was all in vain!