Frail Life! In Which, Through Mists Of Human Breath Poem by William Davenant

Frail Life! in which, through mists of human breath
We grope for truth, and make our progress slow,
Because by passion blinded; till by death
Our passions ending, we begin to know.

O reverend Death! whose looks can soon advise
E'en scornful youth, which priests their doctrine waste;
Yet mock us too; for he does make us wise,
When by his coming our affairs are past.

O harmless Death! whom still the valiant brave,
The wise expect, the sorrowful invite,
And all the good embrace, who know the grave
A shut dark passage to eternal light.