Life.

The list is long, the stories read the same;
    Strong mortal man is but a flesh-hued toy;
Some have their ending in a life of shame;
    Others drink deeply from the glass of joy;
Some see the cup dashed dripping from their lip
    Or drinking, find the wine has turned to gall,
While others taste the sweets they fain would sip
    And then Death comes--the sequel to it all.

Edwin C. Ranck

Edwin C. Ranck was an American lyricist noted for his work in the early 20th century. He was a prolific writer and his lyrics were often characterized by their humor and wit. One of his standout works is the poem 'The Optimist', which reflects his positive outlook on life. Beyond that, little is known about his personal life or career. He remains a somewhat obscure figure in literary history.

Edwin C. Ranck

The Rubaiyat Of A Kentuckian.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

A Wonderful Feat.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

The Doodle Bug.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

To Poe.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

English

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Humanity's Stream.

I stood upon a crowded thoroughfare,
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Within its banks of brick and masonry.

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Extravagance to trenchant penury,
And all extremes of want and misery.
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Life

Hearken, O dear, now strikes the hour we die;
We, who in our strange kiss
Have proved a dream the world's realities,
Turned each from other's darkness with a sigh,
Need heed no more of life, waste no more breath
On any other journey, but of death.

And yet: Oh, know we well
How each of us must prove Love's infidel;
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Walter De La Mare

Terminus

    Terminus shows the ways and says,
    "All things must have an end."
    Oh, bitter thought we hid away
    When first you were my friend.

    We hid it in the darkest place
    Our hearts had place to hide,
    And took the sweet as from a spring
    Whose waters would abide.

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    Has greater store than this: -
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    And fills the silences.

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    Throws over the spent heart;
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What is Life?

And what is Life?--An hour-glass on the run,
A mist retreating from the morning sun,
A busy, bustling, still repeated dream;
Its length?--A minute's pause, a moment's thought;
And happiness?-A bubble on the stream,
That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought.

What are vain Hopes?--The puffing gale of morn,
That of its charms divests the dewy lawn,
And robs each floweret of its gem,--and dies;
A cobweb hiding disappointment's thorn,
Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise.

And thou, O Trouble?--Nothing can suppose,
(And sure the power of wisdom only knows,)
What need requireth thee:
So free and liberal as thy bounty flows,
Some necessary cause must surely be;
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Devoted wretches feel,
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John Clare

Two Lives.

1

"There is no God," one said,
    And love is lust;
When I am dead I'm dead,
    And all is dust.

"Be merry while you can
    Before you're gray;
With some wild courtesan
    Drink care away."


2

One said, "A God there is,
    And God is love;
Death is not death, but bliss,
    And life above.

"Above all flesh is mind;
    And faith and truth
God's gifts to poor mankind
    That make life youth."


3

One from a harlot's side
Arose at morn;
One cursing God had died
That night forlorn.

Madison Julius Cawein

What Is Life?

And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run,
A mist retreating from the morning sun,
A busy, bustling, still repeated dream;
Its length?--A minute's pause, a moment's thought;
And happiness?--a bubble on the stream,
That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought.

What are vain hopes?--The puffing gale of morn,
That of its charms divests the dewy lawn,
And robs each flow'ret of its gem,--and dies;
A cobweb hiding disappointment's thorn,
Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise.

And what is Death? Is still the cause unfound?
That dark, mysterious name of horrid sound?--
A long and lingering sleep, the weary crave.
And Peace? where can its happiness abound?
No where at all, save heaven, and the grave.
Then what is Life?--When stripp'd of its di...

John Clare