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FAME

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Mar 26, 1896

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 22, No. 13.

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FAME

By Charles W. Hubner

“What boots it whether in Westminster Abbey, or under the shadow of a village spire, my ashes lie; whether a few years earlier, or a few years later, earth is my resting-place. The world will soon forget me.”—Thackeray.
WHAT is fame?—An air-born bubble in a stream; ’Tis the evanescent phantom of a dream; ’Tis the down of thistles drifting on the wind; ’Tis the flash that for a moment makes us blind!
Shake the dew-pearls on yon lily from their place, And for aye is gone the fashion of their grace; From its slender stem dissever yonder flower, And thy prize will pale and wither in an hour.
Little time, forsooth, hath Beauty here to live, And the life of fame, believe me, is as brief! As the dews exhale, and roses turn to dust, So will earthly glory perish, and be lost.
He that fame and honors seeketh will pursue Thistle-down, and bubbles drifting out of view, Yearn for phantoms ever fading from the eye, Grasp at shooting-stars that glitter, flash and—die.
On the poor man’s grave the roses bloom as fair As upon the tomb that shrines the millionaire; Stars shine bright, and songsters warble full as sweet O’er a dead king—and the beggar at his feet.
—Charles W. Hubner.