(21 February 1801 – 11 August 1890 / London, England)


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,
Uprears its pageants 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.

by John Henry Newman

Comments (1)

He states the truth in this poem, that all things in this world tend toward death, since the Fall of Man. Only Jesus, who said, 'I am the way, the truth, and the life, ' can reverse this direction.