Or like a shuttle in weaver's hand;
Or like the writing on the sand;
Or like a thought; or like a dream;
Or like the gliding of the stream;
Even such is man, who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life, and death.
The bubble's cut; the look's forgot;
The shuttle's flung; the writing's blot;
The thought is past; the dream is gone;
The water glides; man's life is done.