Poems (Henley)/Ballade of Truisms
BALLADE OF TRUISMS
Gold or silver, every day, Dies to gray.There are knots in every skein.Hours of work and hours of play Fade awayInto one immense Inane.Shadow and substance, chaff and grain, Are as vainAs the foam or as the spray.Life goes crooning, faint and fain, One refrain:—'If it could be always May!'
Though the earth be green and gay, Though, they say,Man the cup of heaven may drain;Though, his little world to sway, He displayHoard on hoard of pith and brain:Autumn brings a mist and rain That constrain Him and his to know decay,Where undimmed the lights that wane Would remain,If it could be always May.
Yea, alas, must turn to Nay, Flesh to clay.Chance and Time are ever twain.Men may scoff, and men may pray, But they payEvery pleasure with a pain.Life may soar, and Fortune deign To explainWhere her prizes hide and stay;But we lack the lusty train We should gain,If it could be always May.
Envoy
Time, the pedagogue, his cane Might retain,But his charges all would strayTruanting in every lane— Jack with Jane—If it could be always May.