And, fourishing the day, at evening dies;
A winged eastern blast, just skimming o'er
The ocean's brow, and sinking on the shore;
A fire, whose flames through crackling stubble fly;
A meteor shooting through the summer sky;
A bowl adown the bending mountain rolled;
A bubble breaking, and a fable told;
A noon-tide shadow, and a midnight dream;
Are emblems which, with sembiance apt, proclaim
Our earthly course; but O my soul! so fast
Must life run out and death forever last?
