The life of man is naught but vanity.
Ah, which were better, then — to seek relief
In tears, or sternly strive to conquer grief?
Lament II
If I had ever thought to write in praise
Of little children and their simple ways,
Far rather had I fashioned cradle verse
To rock to slumber, or the songs a nurse
Might croon above the baby on her breast,
Setting her charge’s short-lived woes at rest.