The old believe everything; the middle-aged suspect everything; the young know everything.
Time fleeth on, Youth soon is gone, Naught earthly may abide; Life seemeth fast, But may not last – It runs as runs the tide.
That rivers flow into the sea Is loss and waste, the foolish say, Nor know that back they find their way Unseen, to where they want to be.
But the nearer the dawn the darker the night, And by going wrong all things come right; Things have been mended that were worse, And the worse, the nearer they are to mend.
Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.
Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed, but it returneth.
Ships, wealth, general confidence, All were his; He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set! where were they.
See dying vegetables life sustain, See life dissolving vegetate again; All forms that perish other forms supply; By turns we catch the vital breath and die.
The ever-whirling wheel Of Change, to which all mortal things doth sway.
So many great nobles, things, administrations, So many high chieftains, so many brave nations, So many proud princes, and power so splendid, In a moment, a twinkling, all utterly ended.