by John Henry Newman
When they shall say, Peace and safety, then sudden destruction cometh upon them.
When mirth is full and free
Some sudden gloom shall be;
When haughty power mounts high,
The watcher's axe is nigh;
All growth has bound: when greatest found,
It hastes to die.
When the rich town, that long
Has lain its huts among,
Builds court and palace vast,
And vaunts -- it shall not last!
Bright tints that shine are but a sign
Of summer past.
And when thine eye surveys,
With fond adoring gaze,
And yearning heart, thy friend,--
Love to its grave doth tend.
All gifts below, save Truth, but grow
Towards an end.