All earthly things are hasting to decay;
And man, possess’d of an immortal soul,
Lives to exalt his perishing mortal clay,
Nor listens to the never ceasing toll
Of hours he may regret while endless ages roll.
VIII.
For man is but the creature of a day;
Dress’d for a little “pomp and circumstance,”
He figures for awhile in grand display,
Or on the stage, or in the mazy dance;