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Title: All Things Are Second-Handed
Author: Jared Barhite [
More Titles by Barhite]
On being asked to write an original poem.
"There's no new thing under the sun,"
Said the ancient priest and preacher;
What seems now new is only done
To quicken some old feature
That lies effete, or badly worn,
And lacks its pristine rigor,
That needs an energizing touch
To give it life and vigor.
The sun that shines on us to-day,
Shone on our ancient parents
Who walked upon the primal clay;
And science fully warrants
That not one atom has been lost,
And not one atom added
To all the atom matter host,
Although some forms have faded.
The gorgeous colors that are cast
On cloud-land morn and even,
Are but reflections of the past
That erst had spangled heaven
With glories from that mystic throne
Whose blendings none can rival,
But whose expiring tints, alone,
Admit of a revival.
The rain that drops has dropped before;
Our flowers were another's;
The songs we sing were sung of yore
By long departed brothers;
The sounds we hear are but the tones
Or echoes of the past;
We live among the mouldering bones
Of forms too frail to last.
Then ask me not for something new,
All things are second-handed,
The old may sometimes be more true
Than that more lately branded;
But taking things as best we can,
We know 'tis only human
To shun a second-handed man,
Or a second-handed woman.
But let us not be too severe
On second-handed matter,
For nothing seems to be more clear
Than that we should not flatter
Our souls into a fatal state,
Of scoffing at the common,
For who can tell what cruel fate
May make of man or woman?
[The end]
Jared Barhite's poem: All Things Are Second-Handed
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