Epitaph On The World in  General   

Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.

By Henry David Thoreau

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Other poems by Henry David Thoreau:

• Conscience
• Epitaph On The World
• Friendship
• I am the autumnal sun
• I Knew A Man By Sight
• Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell
• Inspiration
• Let such pure hate still underprop
• Low-Anchored Cloud
• My life has been the poem
• Pray to What Earth
• Prayer
• Rumors from an Aeolian Harp
• Sic Vita
• Smoke
• The Inward Morning
• The Summer Rain
• They Who Prepare my Evening Meal Below
• Within the Circuit of This Plodding Life