All the flowers of the spring
Meet to perfume our burying;
These have but their growing prime,
And man does flourish but his time:
Survey our progress from our birth;
We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.
Courts adieu, and all delights,
All bewitching appetites!
Sweetest breath and clearest eye,
Like perfumes, go out and die;
And consequently this is done
As shadows wait upon the sun.
Vain ambition of kings
Who seek by trophies and dead things
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.
John Webster's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Vanitas Vanitatum by John Webster )
- Winter Song, Rose Marie Nizamuddin
- Poet, arshad arshad
- Festival of Light, Aftab Alam
- Crying, Michael McParland
- Where are you going, gajanan mishra
- Funerall Elegy XX, Francis Quarles
- Lovely, Alem Hailu Gabre Kristos
- Life, Mustapha Muinah
- Funerall Elegy XIII, Francis Quarles
- A monkey's like a ghazal in his mom's eyes, MOHAMMAD SKATI
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