Even such is man, who heaps up sorrow,
Lives but this day, and dies to-morrow,
The lightning's past; the post must go;
The song is short; the journey's so;
The pear doth rot; the plum doth fall;
The snow dissolves; and so must all.
Quarles.
Like to the damask Rose you see, &c.
[VII.]
Like to the blaze of fond delight;