Click here to return to Poetry links

Ecclesiastes

Poetry is vanity,
Or so the Preacher says;
The proof of my insanity
Is written in the vanity
Of everything it says!

He said of laughter, It is mad,
Of mirth, What doeth it?
A time for happy, a time for sad,
Vexation of spirit is all he had,
Vexation of spirit and vanity.

We all are one, the beasts and we,
One common end to all:
All else is naught but vanity
In the flesh of each and all.

All the rivers run into the sea,
Yet the sea is never full;
Man, in all his vanity,
His coquettry and poetry,
Is also never full,

But seeks instead preeminence
Because he's very smart --
Knowledge is the excellence
Of Wisdom's grave inheritance:
Who thinks he's smart is not!

Click here to return to Poetry links