Kirkjuritið - 01.04.1964, Blaðsíða 19

KIRKJURITIÐ
161
Swift runs man’s brief existence,
Nor pauses for a breath,
Till ends his vain resistance
In the grim grasp of Death.
All earthly roads are sweeping
Towards one common bourn,
Where all men, glad or weeping,
Willing or loth, must turn.
Nor force nor law’s devices
The steps of Death can stay;
No golden bribe suffices
To gain an hour’s delay.
He comes, as little heeding
If welcomed or withstood,
Nor yields to curse or pleading
The fierceness of his mood.
Mazed in a wild vuireason
We stray, for none may know
How called, or at what season,
Or whither he must go.
One single wa.y provided
Entry to earth’s abode;
But thence we fare divided
By many a sundered road.
All flesh alike consuming,
Death strikes with weapon bared,
Can I then hope, presuming,
I shall alone be spared?
Since Adam’s natiu-e courses
Through every human vein,
My heritage enforces
Return to dust again.
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