Know'st Thou What Gray Methuselah

Know'st thou what gray Methuselah
Pronounced when parting with this life?
Man's born a slave,
He dies a slave,
And death will never tell him why
He walked this lovely vale of tears,
Suffered, wept, endured, and disappeared.

by Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov

Other poems of KONSTANTIN NIKOLAEVICH BATIUSHKOV (8)

Comments (1)

A poem which the the older, meditative person can fully relate to.I especially like his 2nd last line about the lovely vale of tears. Deep!