Richmond Enquirer

MAN.

Like as the damask rose you see
Or like the blossom on a tree,
Or like the daisy flowers in May,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonah had;
Even such is man, whose thread is spun,
Drawn out and cut, and so is done.
The rose withers, the blossom blasts,
The flower fades, the morning hastes,
The sun sets, the shadow flies,
The gourd consumes, and man he dies.

Like to the grass, that's newly sprung,
Or like the tale that's new begun,
Or like the bird that's here to-day,
Or like the pearly dew of May,
Or like an hour, or like a span,
Or like the singing of a swan;
Even such is man, that lives by breath,
Here now, there now, in life or death.
The grass withers, the tale is ended,
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended,
The hour is short, the span not long,
The swan near death, man's life is done.

Like to the bubble in the brook,
Or in a glass much like a look;
Like to the shuttle in a weaver's hand,
Or like the writing on the sand,
Or like a thought, or like a dream,
Or like the gliding of a stream:
Even such is man, who lives by breath.
Even here, now there, in life or death.
The bubble's burst, the look forgot,
The shuttle flung, the writing's blot,
The thought is past, the dream is gone,
The waters glide, man's life is done.

Like an arrow from the bow,
Or like the course of water flow,
Or like the time 'twixt flood and ebb,
Or like the spider's slender web,
Or like a race, or like a goal,
Or like the dancing of a dole;
Even such is man, whose brittle stage
Is always subject unto fate.
The arrow's shot, the flood soon swept,
The time no time, the web soon rent,
The race soon run, the goal soon won,
The dole soon dealt, man's life is done.

Like to the lightning from the sky,
Or like the post that soon doth hie,
Or like a quaver in a song,
Or like a journey three days long,
Or like the snow when summer's come,
Or like the pear or like the plum;
Even such is man, he heaps up sorrow,
Lives but this day, and dies to-morrow.
The lightning's past, the post must go,
The song is short, the journey so,
The pear doth rot, the plum doth fall,
The snow dissolves, and so must all.