The flower that smiles to-day
                                                          To-morrow dies;
                                                          All that we wish to stay
                                                          Tempts and then flies.
                                                          What is this world's delight?
                                                          Lightning that mocks the night,
                                                          Brief even as bright.

                                                          Virtue, how frail it is!
                                                          Friendship how rare!
                                                          Love, how it sells poor bliss
                                                          For proud despair!
                                                          But we, though soon they fall,
                                                          Survive their joy, and all
                                                          Which ours we call.

                                                          Whilst skies are blue and bright,
                                                          Whilst flowers are gay,
                                                          Whilst eyes that change ere night
                                                          Make glad the day;
                                                          Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
                                                          Dream thou--and from thy sleep

                                                          Then wake to weep.

                                                                               --------Percy Bysshe Shelley