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Even This Shall Pass Away

I re-read this poem after many years in a compilation of poems by A. Parthasarathy of Vedanta Academy. I happened to read this at a time when a colleague of mine is going through a very difficult phase in her life....I could not help but wonder if this will be a balm for her bruised soul..While searching the net came across this in a blog by "Intelligent tree" ( thanks to you , i could copy paste the poem) 
 Even This Shall Pass Away 
by Theodore Tilton 

 Once in Persia reigned a King, 
Who upon his signet ring 
Graved a maxim true and wise, 
Which, if held before his eyes, 
Gave him counsel at a glance, 
Fit for every change and chance. 
Solemn words, and these are they; 
"Even this shall pass away."

 Trains of camels through the sand 
Brought him gems from Samarkand;
 Fleets of galleys through the seas 
Brought him pearls to match with these; 
But he counted not his gain, 
Treasures of the mine or main; 
"What is wealth?" the king would say; 
"Even this shall pass away." 

 Mid the revels of his court, 
At the zenith of his sport, 
When the palms of all his guests, 
Burned with clapping at his jests, 
He, amid his figs and wine; 
Cried, 'O loving friends of mine; 
Pleasures come, but not to stay;
"Even this shall pass away" 

 Lady, fairest ever seen, 
Was the bride he crowned his queen. 
Pillowed on his marriage bed, 
Softly to his soul he said:
 Though no bridegroom ever pressed; 
Fairer bosom to his breast, 
Mortal flesh must come to clay-
"Even this shall pass away" 
 Fighting on a furious field, 
Once a javelin pierced his shield; 
Soldiers, with a loud lament, 
Bore him bleeding to his tent. 
Groaning from his tortured side, 
"Pain is hard to bear," he cried; 
"But with patience, day by day, 
Even this shall pass away. 

 Towering in the public square, 
Twenty cubits in the air, 
Rose his statue carved in stone. 
Then the king, disguised, unknown, 
Stood before his sculptured name, 
Musing meekly: "What is fame?" 
Fame is but a slow decay; 
Even this shall pass away.

 Struck with palsy, sore and old, 
Waiting at the Gates of Gold, 
Said he with his dying breath,
"Life is done, but what is death?"
Then, in answer to the king, 
Fell a sun beam on his ring, 
Showing by a heavenly ray, 
"Even this shall pass away."

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