This Life which seemes so faire
This Life which seemes so faire,
Is like a Bubble blowen up in the Aire,
By sporting Childrens Breath,
Who chase it every where,
And strive who can most Motion it bequeath:
And though it sometime seeme of its owne Might
(Like to an Eye of gold) to be fix'd there,
And firme to hover in that emptie Hight,
That only is because it is so light,
But in that Pompe it doth not long appeare;
For even when most admir'd, it in a Thought
As swell'd from nothing, doth dissolve in nought.