See the leaves around us falling, Dry and withered to the ground;
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling, In a sad and solemn sound:
Youth on length of days presuming, Who the paths of pleasure tread,
View us, late in beauty blooming, Numbered now among the dead.
Yearly in our course appearing, Messengers of shortest stay,
Thus we preach in mortal hearing Ye, like us, shall pass away.
- Horne
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling, In a sad and solemn sound:
Youth on length of days presuming, Who the paths of pleasure tread,
View us, late in beauty blooming, Numbered now among the dead.
Yearly in our course appearing, Messengers of shortest stay,
Thus we preach in mortal hearing Ye, like us, shall pass away.
- Horne
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