A Blast Of Wind, A Momentary Breath

A blast of wind, a momentary breath,
A watery bubble symbolised with air,
A sun-blown rose, but for a season fair,
A ghostly glance, a skeleton of death;
A morning dew, pearling the grass beneath,
Whose moisture sun's appearence doth impair;
A lightening glimpse, a muse of thought and care,
A planet's shot, a shade which followeth,
A voice which vanishes so soon as heard
The thriftless heir of time, a rolling wave,
A show, no more in action than regard,
A mass of dust, world's momentary slave,
Is man, in state of our old Adam made,
Soon born to die, soon flourishing to fade.

by Barnabe1 Barnes

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