The waves o’ertake them in their serious play,
And every hour sweeps multitudes away;
They shriek and sink—survivors start and weep,
Pursue their sport, and follow to the deep.
Cowper.
This mortal life,
Seeming so fair, is like a feather tossed,
Borne on the wind, and in a moment lost.
Or if with sudden wheel it flies
Further sometimes, and upwards springs,