Alexander Pope

See the wild Waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, read more

See the wild Waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead!

Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
read more

Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?

And not a vanity is given in vain.

And not a vanity is given in vain.

Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused:
Where order in variety we read more

Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused:
Where order in variety we see,
And where tho' all things differ, all agree.

Reason, however able, cool at best,
Cares not for service, or but serves when prest,
Stays till read more

Reason, however able, cool at best,
Cares not for service, or but serves when prest,
Stays till we call, and then not often near.