Human Life

Like as a damask rose you see, Or like the blossom on the tree; Or like the dainty flower in May, Or like the morning to the day; Or like the sun, or like the shade, Or like the gourd which Jonah had; E'en such is man, whose thread is spun, Drawn out, and cut, and so is done; Withers the rose, the blossom blasts, The flower fades, the morning hastes; The sun doth set, the shadows fly, The ground consumes, and mortals die.

Like to the grass that's newly sprung, Or like a tale that's new begun; Or like a bird that's hero to-day, Or like the pearled dew of May; Or like an hour, or like a span, Or like the singing of a swan: E'en such is man, who lives by breath, Is here, now there, in life and death; The grass decays, the tale doth end, The bird is flown, the dews ascend; The hour is short, the span not long, The swan's near death, man's life is done.

Like to the bubble in the brook, Or in a glass much like a look; Or like the shuttle in the hand, Or like the writing in the sand; Or like a thought, or like a dream, Or like the gliding of the stream; E'en such is man, who lives by breath, Is here, now there, in life and death; The bubble's burst, the look's forgot, The shuttle's flung, the writing's blot; The thought is past, the dream is gone, The water glides, man's life is done.