All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away. 1 Peter 1:24
Words: Anne Steele, Poems on Subjects Chiefly Devotional 1760:
To a Friend, on the Death of a Child.
If you know where to get a good picture of Steele (head-and-shoulders, at least 200×300 pixels), or a better one of Dykes, would you ?
Life is a span, a fleeting hour,
How soon the vapor flies!
Man is a tender, transient flower,
That e’en in blooming dies!
Death spreads like winter’s frozen arms,
And beauty smiles no more;
Ah! where are now those rising charms
Which pleased our eyes before?
The once loved form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs;
And nature weeps, her comforts fled,
And withered all her joys.
But wait the interposing gloom
And lo, winter flies!
And dressed in beauty’s fairest bloom
The flowery tribes arise.
Hope looks beyond the bounds of time;
When what we now deplore,
Shall rise in full immortal prime,
And bloom to fade no more.
Then cease, fond nature, cease thy tears,
Religion points on high;
There everlasting spring appears,
And joys that cannot die.