Make Merry in the Room

Observe the busy bee, my son,
which from dawn rich till day is done,
from bloom to blossom journeying,
extracts from each a different thing, -
a special nectar from each one,
by each embraced, detained by none.
There’s room for more before Death’s sting
envelops all within dark wing.
When first-fruits fall so readily,
then flitter-flatter fancy free.

Our hearts rejoice ‘bove anything
to hear the cricket’s cheerful ring,
so dance through life, no pleasures shun,
until the thread of Fortune’s spun.
Copy the cricket, chirp and sing
throughout life’s Summer, for Time’s wing
is almost flown before begun: -
from branch to branch enjoy your fun
before you choose the perfect tree
from which to hang eternity.

Eternal traverse of the sun
mocks Man’s vain efforts, every one,
“the garment of repentance fling”
to dust “and in the fire of Spring”
refill your cup, let sweetness run.
All know their leaves fall one by one.
Today tomorrow stings, may bring
sans eyes, sans ears, sans everything.
“Some little talk of me and thee”
there’ll be, then nothing more will be.

© Jonathan Robin Poem written 19 May 1986

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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