Goblin Market and Other Poems (1862)/A Testimony
A TESTIMONY.
I said of laughter: it is vain.Of mirth I said: what profits it?Therefore I found a book, and writTherein how ease and also pain,How health and sickness, every oneIs vanity beneath the sun.
Man walks in a vain shadow; heDisquieteth himself in vain.The things that were shall be again:The rivers do not fill the sea,But turn back to their secret source;The winds too turn upon their course.
Our treasures moth and rust corrupt,Or thieves break through and steal, or theyMake themselves wings and fly away.One man made merry as he supped,Nor guessed how when that night grew dimHis soul would be required of him.
We build our houses on the sandComely withoutside and within;But when the winds and rains beginTo beat on them, they cannot stand:They perish, quickly overthrown,Loose from the very basement stone.
All things are vanity, I said:Yea vanity of vanities.The rich man dies; and the poor dies:The worm feeds sweetly on the dead.Whate'er thou lackest, keep this trust:All in the end shall have but dust:
The one inheritance, which bestAnd worst alike shall find and share:The wicked cease from troubling there,And there the weary be at rest;There all the wisdom of the wiseIs vanity of vanities.
Man flourishes as a green leafAnd as a leaf doth pass away;Or as a shade that cannot stayAnd leaves no track, his course is brief:Yet man doth hope and fear and planTill he is dead:—oh foolish man!
Our eyes cannot be satisfiedWith seeing, nor our ears be filledWith hearing: yet we plant and buildAnd buy and make our borders wide;We gather wealth, we gather care,But know not who shall be our heir.
Why should we hasten to ariseSo early, and so late take rest?Our labor is not good; our bestHopes fade; our heart is stayed on lies:Verily, we sow wind; and weShall reap the whirlwind, verily.
He who hath little shall not lack;He who hath plenty shall decay:Our fathers went; we pass away;Our children follow on our track:So generations fail, and soThey are renewed and come and go.
The earth is fattened with our dead;She swallows more and doth not cease:Therefore her wine and oil increaseAnd her sheaves are not numberèd;Therefore her plants are green, and allHer pleasant trees lusty and tall.
Therefore the maidens cease to sing,And the young men are very sad;Therefore the sowing is not glad,And mournful is the harvesting.Of high and low, of great and small,Vanity is the lot of all.
A King dwelt in Jerusalem;He was the wisest man on earth;He had all riches from his birth,And pleasures till he tired of them;Then, having tested all things, heWitnessed that all are vanity.