Vain-Glory
If you feel, in the Chaos of Things,
Life is somewhat a sorrowful jest,
Come to the shadow of Love's soft wings,
To starlit silence and dreams and rest.
Leaving the glory, the pomp, the power,
Fame and fortune and folly and fret,
The Western sun is a golden flower!
Come to love, come to forget!
Turn your tender and radiant eyes,
Eyes like amethysts, jewelled and clear,
What do they see in the world to prize,
Which of its baubles would they hold dear?
Vain are the glories, every one,
Vain to conquer and vain to regret;—
The falling shadows engulf the sun,
Come to love, come to forget!
The Flag of Glory is quickly furled,
The Sword of Honour is hardly more;
To those who wander about the world
The standards vary; one is not sure.
One's drifting soul, in Life's ebb and flow,
Would fain be faithful to some things yet,
But youth is calling, the sun is low,
Come to love, come to forget!
From shade of sorrow or stress of strife,
Here, in the desert, how far one seems.
Oh, follow your fancy, lend your life
To the golden guidance of your dreams!
And come to me: you are free to go
Ere ever the stars of morning set;—
The fires of sunset are burning low,
Come to love, come to forget!