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1 Life is a span, a fleeting hour;
How soon the vapour flies!
Man is a tender, transient flow'r,
That e'en in blooming dies.
2 The one lov'd form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs;
And nature weeps her comforts fled,
And wither'd all her joys.
3 But wait the interposing gloom,
And lo! stern winter flies;
And, drest in beauty's fairest bloom,
The flow'ry tribes arise.
4 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,
When what we now deplore
Shall rise in full immortal prime
And bloom to fade no more.
5 Then cease, fond nature! cease thy tears;
Religion points on high:
There everlasting spring appears,
And joys that cannot die.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Life is a span, a fleeting hour |
Meter: | C. M. |
Publication Date: | 1828 |
Topic: | Death: Death of the young; On the death of a child |