In the world’s hale and degenerate days,
Could scarce have leisure for: fools that we are!
Never to think of death, and of ourselves,
At the same time! As if, to learn to die,
Were no concern of ours!
Blair.
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
Bridal of earth and sky,
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou, alas! must die!