Contemplations

When I behold the heavens as in their prime,

And then the earth (though old) still clad in green,

The stones and trees, insensible of time,

Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen;

If winter come, and greenness then do fade,

A Spring returns, and they more youthfull made;

But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once he’s laid.