Tixall Poetry.
315
The world the stage, the prologue teares,
The acts, vain hope, and vary'd feares;
The scene shuts up with loss of breath,
And leaves no epilogue but death.
The acts, vain hope, and vary'd feares;
The scene shuts up with loss of breath,
And leaves no epilogue but death.
Life a Preparation for Eternity.
Time slowly moves to them that be
Busy in infelicity;
Whose every sun dos still beget
An age of woes before it set,
And ere their noone of life is gone,
They thinke the world's Jong course they've run.
Grief is time's multiplying glas,
By which we judge we slowly pas
On to the grave, the place of rest
To the unhappy and opprest.
Busy in infelicity;
Whose every sun dos still beget
An age of woes before it set,
And ere their noone of life is gone,
They thinke the world's Jong course they've run.
Grief is time's multiplying glas,
By which we judge we slowly pas
On to the grave, the place of rest
To the unhappy and opprest.
