They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
- Ernest Dowson
[The title translates, from the Latin, as
'The brief sum of life forbids us the hope of enduring long' and is from a work by Horace]
A brief and poignant poem reminding us of Robert Herrick
It is also a gentle nudge to remember that joys and sorrows have their play too. Finally all this drama ends
there isn’t even memory of the pain or pleasure once we are gone
Brevity, poem and life. Perhaps a perspective from one side. The other (others) await.