The Vanity Of Earthly Objects

By E.N.S.

Away ye tempting toys—begone!
False joys do you present;
Your fairest proffers now I spurn,
In craftiness they’re meant,
To lure me to the gilded bait,
Of promised happiness;
Where many find, alas! too late,
It cannot be possess’d.

For where shall happiness be found,
In this terrestrial frame?
We search this ample globe around,
And find it but in name;
As we approach, the vision flies,
We lose the form so fair,
Ere we can grasp the wish’d for prize,
We find it nought but air;
True happiness alone is found
In that bright world above,
Where purity and peace abound,
And harmony and love.

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