The sun, the moon, the stars and heavenlies
Observe the short-lived running round and round
For fame, for pow’r, for gold and vanities—
What passing shadows for which men are bound.
How rare it is for mortals to confound
Their vain pursuits before their days are due—
But then, nothing under the sun’s been new.
Frank is hosting dVerse’s MTB: Chaucerian Stanza or Rhyme Royal I’m posting this one in the midst of the morning commute — not sure if it’s an uplifting idea to start the day with. I used the iambic pentameter, with one intended break near the end that pokes fun at the form.
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