Don Juan

     Man 's a phenomenon, one knows not what,
       And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure;
     'T is pity though, in this sublime world, that
       Pleasure 's a sin, and sometimes sin 's a pleasure;
     Few mortals know what end they would be at,
       But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure,
     The path is through perplexing ways, and when
     The goal is gain'd, we die, you know—and then—

     What then?—I do not know, no more do you—
       And so good night.—Return we to our story:
     'T was in November, when fine days are few,
       And the far mountains wax a little hoary,
     And clap a white cape on their mantles blue;
       And the sea dashes round the promontory,
     And the loud breaker boils against the rock,
     And sober suns must set at five o'clock.

~Lord Byron, Don Juan