LIKE as the damask rose you see,
  Or like the blossom on the tree,
  Or like the dainty flower in May,
  Or like the morning of the day,
  Or like the sun, or like the shade,
  Or like the gourd which Jonas had,—
  E’en such is man; whose thread...

O Why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
He passes from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered...

Poet: William Knox
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