Know'st Thou What Gray Methuselah

Know'st thou what gray Methuselah
Pronounced when parting with this life?
Man's born a slave,
He dies a slave,
And death will never tell him why
He walked this lovely vale of tears,
Suffered, wept, endured, and disappeared.

poem by Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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