The world passes, nothing lasts, and the creation of men
Is buried alive under the vault of Time.
Autumn comes pillaging gardens;
The bulbuls laugh to see the flowers falling.
Wars start up wherever your eye glances,
And the young men moan marching on to the batteries.
_Mira_ is the unkempt old man you see on the road;
He has taken his death-wound in battle.
(Edward Powys Mathers)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Time Poems, War & Peace Poems, Youth Poems, Flowers Poems, Autumn PoemsBased on Keywords: batteries, mira, unkempt, bulbuls, death-wound, pillaging