Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
Sic VitaHenry King (15921669)
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Or as the flights of eagles are,—
Or like the fresh spring’s gawdy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew,
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood:—
Even such is man, whose borrow’d light
Is straight call’d in, and paid to night.
The Wind blowes out; the Bubble dies;
The Spring entomb’d in Autumn lies;
The Dew dries up; the Star is shot:
The Flight is past—and Man forgot!