DAY.
Day!
Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim, day boils at last;
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim.
Pippa Passes: Introduction. R. BROWNING.
How troublesome is day!
It calls us from our sleep away;
It bids us from our pleasant dreams awake,
And sends us forth to keep or break
Our promises to pay.
How troublesome is day!
Fly-By-Night. T.L. PEACOCK.
Blest power of sunshine!—genial day,
What balm, what life is in thy ray!
To feel there is such real bliss,
That had the world no joy but this,
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,—
It were a world too exquisite
For man to leave it for the gloom,
The deep, cold shadow, of the tomb.
Lalla Rookh: The Fire Worshippers. T. MOORE.
DEATH.
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.
Cupid and Death. J. SHIRLEY.
A worm is in the bud of youth,
And at the root of age.
Stanza subjoined to a Bill of Mortality. W. COWPER.
The tall, the wise, the reverend head
Must lie as low as ours.
A Funeral Thought, Bk. II. Hymn 63. DR. I. WATTS.
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and—farewell king!
K. Richard II., Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds,
There's a lean fellow beats all conquerors.
Old Fortunatus. T. DEKKER.