Even so is man, whose thread is spun,
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done.
The rose withers, the blossom blasteth,
The flower fades, the morning hasteth:
The sun sets, the shadow flies,
The gourd consumes, and man he dies.
IN GILLINGHAM CHURCHYARD, ENG.
Take time in time while time doth last,
For time is not time when time is past.