| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | IV. Inevitable
All things will die | | By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892) |
| | | CLEARLY the blue river chimes in its flowing | |
| Under my eye; | |
| Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing | |
| Over the sky. | |
| One after another the white clouds are fleeting; | 5 |
| Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating | |
| Full merrily; | |
| Yet all things must die. | |
| The stream will cease to flow; | |
| The wind will cease to blow; | 10 |
| The clouds will cease to fleet; | |
| The heart will cease to beat; | |
| For all things must die. | |
| |
| All things must die. | |
| Spring will come never more. | 15 |
| Oh! vanity! | |
| Death waits at the door. | |
| See! our friends are all forsaking | |
| The wine and the merrymaking. | |
| We are called—we must go. | 20 |
| Laid low, very low, | |
| In the dark we must lie. | |
| The merry glees are still; | |
| The voice of the bird | |
| Shall no more be heard, | 25 |
| Nor the wind on the hill. | |
| Oh! misery! | |
| Hark! death is calling | |
| While I speak to ye, | |
| The jaw is falling, | 30 |
| The red cheek paling, | |
| The strong limbs failing; | |
| Ice with the warm blood mixing; | |
| The eyeballs fixing. | |
| Nine times goes the passing bell: | 35 |
| Ye merry souls, farewell. | |
| |
| The old earth | |
| Had a birth, | |
| As all men know, | |
| Long ago. | 40 |
| And the old earth must die. | |
| So let the warm winds range, | |
| And the blue wave beat the shore; | |
| For even and morn | |
| Ye will never see | 45 |
| Through eternity. | |
| All things were born. | |
| Ye will come never more, | |
| For all things must die. | | | | |
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