If neither brass nor marble can withstand
The mortal force of Time's destructive hand;
If mountains sink to vales, if cities die,
And lessening rivers mourn their fountains dry;
When my old cassock (said a Welsh divine)
Is out at elbows, why should I repine?
The Power Of Time
Jonathan Swift
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Poem topics: time, force, divine, mourn, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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