Passing and Glassing

All things that pass

Are woman's looking-glass;

They show her how her bloom must fade,

And she herself be laid

With withered roses in the shade;

With withered roses and the fallen peach,

Unlovely, out of reach

Of summer joy that was.

All things that pass

Are woman's tiring-glass;

The faded lavender is sweet,

Sweet the dead violet

Culled and laid by and cared for yet;

The dried-up violets and dried lavender

Still sweet, may comfort her,

Nor need she cry Alas!

All things that pass

Are wisdom's looking-glass;

Being full of hope and fear, and still

Brimful of good or ill,

According to our work and will;

For there is nothing new beneath the sun;

Our doings have been done,

And that which shall be was.