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Henry Francis Lyte

(1 June 1793 - 20 November 1847 / Scotland)

Declining Days

Why do I sigh to find
Life's evening shadows gathering round my way?
The keen eye dimming, and the buoyant mind
Unhinging day by day?

Is it the natural dread
Of that stern lot, which all who live must see?
The worm, the clay, the dark and narrow bed, --
Have these such awe for me?

[Hata Bildir]