User:Esraa Gamal 37/sandbox

I

ADVENTURE most unto itself The Soul condemned to be; Attended by a Single Hound— Its own Identity.

II

THE SOUL that has a Guest, Doth seldom go abroad, Diviner Crowd at home Obliterate the need, And courtesy forbid A Host’s departure, when Upon Himself be visiting The Emperor of Men!

III

EXCEPT the smaller size, no Lives are round, These hurry to a sphere, and show, and end. The larger, slower grow, and later hang— The Summers of Hesperides are long.

IV

FAME is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate, Whose table once a Guest, but not The second time, is set. Whose crumbs the crows inspect, And with ironic caw Flap past it to the Farmer’s corn; Men eat of it and die.

V

THE RIGHT to perish might be thought An undisputed right, Attempt it, and the Universe upon the opposite Will concentrate its officers— You cannot even die, But Nature and Mankind must pause To pay you scrutiny.