The world's a bubble; and the life of man less than a span.
In his conception wretched; from the womb so to the tomb:
Curst from the cradle, and brought up to years, with cares and fears.
Who then to frail mortality shall trust,
But limns the water, or but writes in dust.
Yet, since with sorrow here we live oppress'd, what life is best?
Courts are but only superficial schools to dandle fools:
The rural parts are turn'd into a den of savage men:
And where's a city from all vice so free,
But may be term'd the worst of all the three?
Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, or pains his head:
Those that live single, take it for a curse, or do things worse:
Some would have children; those that have them none; or wish them gone.
What is it then to have no wife, but single thralldom or a double strife?
Our own affections still at home to please, is a disease:
To cross the sea to any foreign soil, perils and toil:
Wars with their noise affright us: when they cease,
We are worse in peace:
What then remains, but that we still should cry,
Not to be born, or being born, to die.
It has some truth, but not all. It it were so we should fall.
Indeed the lie of this world is very small and we plan to make permanent house here....
We are worse in peace: What then remains, but that we still should cry, Not to be born, or being born, to die. // wonderful writings
It reveals the truth the cursed reality of the world has not changed and it makes one feel that this is the fate of the world ever!
A profound philosophical reflection nicely brought forth with conviction. A beautiful work of art...
Sir, your ink on essays of varied subjects are timeless. However, you are great poet as well. This is indeed a beautiful poem.5 stars
The life of man less than a span like a bubble of water. This poem of the day is very nice definitely. An excellent sharing is done here.10
This is such a nice poem, it's a portrait of anyone's life! I love it! ! !