Doe but consider this small dust,
Here running in the Glasse,
By Atomes mov'd;
Could you beleeve, that this,
The body was
Of one that lov'd?
And in his Mistresse flame, playing like a flye,
Turn'd to cinders by her eye?
Yes; and in death, as life unblest,
To have't exprest,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.
I am busy working to bring Ben Jonson's "The Houre-Glasse" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Ben Jonson's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "The Houre-Glasse" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.