Thus leading a quiet and contented life, I had leisure sometimes to
write a copy of verses on one occasion or another, as the poetic
vein naturally opened, without taking pains to polish them. Such
was this which follows, occasioned by the sudden death of some lusty
people in their full strength:
EST VITA CADUCA.
As is the fragrant flower in the field,
Which in the spring a pleasant smell doth yield,
And lovely sight, but soon is withered;
So's Man: to-day alive, to-morrow dead.
And as the silver dew-bespangled grass,
Which in the morn bedecks its mother's face,
But ere the scorching summer's passed looks brown,
Or by the scythe is suddenly cut down.
Just such is Man, who vaunts himself to-day,
Decking himself in all his best array;
But in the midst of all his bravery
Death rounds him in the ear, "Friend, thou must die."
Or like a shadow in a sunny day,
Which in a moment vanishes away;
Or like a smile or spark,--such is the span
Of life allowed this microcosm, Man.
Cease then vain man to boast; for this is true,
Thy brightest glory's as the morning dew,
Which disappears when first the rising sun
Displays his beams above the horizon.
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