What is Life?
And what is Life ? an hour-glass on the run
mist retreating from the morning sun
A busy bustling
still repeated dream
Its length ? A moment’s pause, a moment’s thought
And happiness ? A bubble on the stream
That in the
act of seizing shrinks to nought
Vain hopes—what are they ?
Puffing gales of morn
That of its charms divests the dewy lawn
And robs each flowret of its gem and dies
hiding disappointments thorn
Which stings more keenly
thro’ the thin disguise
And thou, O trouble ? Nothing can suppose,
And sure the Power of Wisdom only knows,
So free and lib’ral as thy bounty flows,
Some necessary cause must surely be.
what is death ? Is still the cause unfound
The dark mysterious name of
A long and ling’ring sleep the weary crave—
And peace—where can its happiness abound ?
at all but Heaven and the grave
Then what is Life ? When stript of
A thing to be desir’d it cannot be
every thing that meets our foolish eyes
sufficient of its vanity
’Tis but a trial all must undergo
To teach unthankful mortals how to prize
happiness vain man’s denied to know
Untill he’s call’d to
claim it in the skies.
Beautiful artwork by: