Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/132



"WHY weep'st thou, fair One?" Ah! a ruthless stroke, "A painted vase, that much I lov'd has broke." Another mourner, still the sage espied, "And why weep'st thou? My son! my son!" she cried.

Deep lost in thought, the man of wisdom mov'd, And thus his lips their utter'd grief reprov'd; "How vain the tears that from those eye-lids stray, "To wet the fragments of a vase of clay; "And vain alike to mourn our mortal birth, "Or hope a deathless date, for a frail child of earth."