“The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years,
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the wars of elements,
The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.”

—  Joseph Addison , book Cato

Act V, scene i.
Cato, A Tragedy (1713)

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Joseph Addison photo
Joseph Addison 226
politician, writer and playwright 1672–1719

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“I'm weary of conjectures,—this must end 'em.
Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me:
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
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Joseph Addison book Cato

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Cato, A Tragedy (1713)

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“Smiling always with a never fading serenity of countenance, and flourishing in an immortal youth.”

Isaac Barrow (1630–1677) English Christian theologian, and mathematician

Isaac Barrow, Duty of Thanksgiving, Works, Volume I, p. 66; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 921-24

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“Roll on, ye Stars! exult in youthful prime,
Mark with bright curves the printless steps of Time;
Near and more near your beamy cars approach,
And lessening orbs on lessening orbs encroach; —
Flowers of the sky! ye too to age must yield,
Frail as your silken sisters of the field!
Star after star from Heaven's high arch shall rush,
Suns sink on suns, and systems systems crush,
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“For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882) American poet

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Morituri Salutamus http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/longfellow/19229 (1875)
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“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
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"For the Fallen" (1914), fourth verse
'Condemn' is sometimes quoted as 'Contemn'. Both make sense in the context, but it was 'condemn' which was included in the first printing of the poem on page 9 of The Times of 21 September 1914. Binyon did not change it to 'contemn' when shown the proof of a later printing.

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“O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave; but thou thyself movest alone. Who can be a companion of thy course? The oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains themselves decay with years; the ocean shrinks and grows again; the moon herself is lost in heaven: but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder rolls and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian thou lookest in vain, for he beholds thy beams no more: whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a season; thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O sun, in the strength of thy youth!”

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“The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.”

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Context: "I’ve always wanted to sail to the South Seas, but I can’t afford it." What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of "security." And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine — and before we know it our lives are gone.
What does a man need — really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in — and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That's all — in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention from the sheer idiocy of the charade.
The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.
Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life? What follows is not a blueprint for the man entombed; not many people find themselves in a situation paying a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year (as if any man is worth that much). But the struggle is relative: it's a lot hard to walk away from an income like that than from a fraction thereof.

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“The sun shall shine in ages yet to be,
The musing moon illumine pastures dim,
And afterwards a new nativity
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Nathalia Crane (1913–1998) American writer

"Tomorrow" <!-- p. 41 -->
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“How can a poet express his feelings in a string of words that can make the rain fall, the seeds grow, the flowers bloom, the stars move, the sun dim and the sea roar?”

Titon Rahmawan

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