When asked the same question again and again.
Our life’s a bubble, hold it who can,
For it goes with the wind, like the breath of man.
Troubles, what are they? Clouds that must come,
Blessings disguised, experience the sum.
O strive each man like new mown hay,
To hold those gifts that pass away.
I live in the present, a past I recall,
But my future depends on the strength of this wall.
Haste, O haste, for ’twill soon be to-morrow,