THE PREACHER - Welcome to My Woven Words

[Latest Post][777]

Motivational
Poem
Funny
ShortStory
Love
How To...
AfricanFolktale
Fact
Health
Inferno
Biography
Birthday
Campus Parrot
Recipe
Relationship
Mythology
History
Fashion
Suggested Post
Culture
The Preacher's Love

Search This Blog

THE PREACHER

The sun ariseth every morn,
And soon doth set;
The generation newly born
Abideth yet;

Long history, though,
doth forewarn,
Its hopes, its dreams,
will come to scorn:
The earth beholds man come and pass forlorn,
Nor doth abet.

What profit hath a man of all His labor done?
What toilsome trouble doth befall; –
What sorrows run!
What foolish hope in vain doth call!
Man’s sweetest cup, wormwood and gall;
The crooked cannot be made straight, of all Under the sun.
All rivers run down to the sea,
Yet seas run dry;
All things that man doth strive to see,
Sate not the eye;
That which is past is what shall be;
The future holds no memory;
Eat, drink, be merry, for all is vanity,
 – And soon we die.


Share This Post

Join This Conversation