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Poem by William Ernest Henley


Life Is Bitter


Life is bitter. All the faces of the years,
Young and old, are gray with travail and with tears.
Must we only wake to toil, to tire, to weep?
In the sun, among the leaves, upon the flowers,
Slumber stills to dreamy death the heavy hours Е
Let me sleep.

Riches won but mock the old, unable years;
FameТs a pearl that hides beneath a sea of tears;
Love must wither, or must live alone and weep.
In the sunshine, through the leaves, across the flowers,
While we slumber, death approaches through the hours Е
Let me sleep. 



William Ernest Henley


William Ernest Henley's other poems:
  1. London Types: Bus Driver
  2. A Wink from Hesper
  3. The Ways of Death Are Soothing and Serene
  4. In Rotten Row
  5. Before


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