Some for the Glories of This World; and some Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest; Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!
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"The heavens are but a turning wheel, and we are like grains of sand upon it."
"The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one."
"And those who husbanded the Golden Grain, And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain, Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd As, buried once, Men want dug up again."
"The worldly hope men set their hearts upon Turns ashes—or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two—is gone."
"Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash the Body whence the Life has died, And in a winding-sheet of Vine-leaf wrapt, So bury me by some sweet Garden-side."
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