What is our life?
On the Life of Man, Sir Walter Ralegh
What is our life? a play of passion,
Our mirth the musicke of division,
Our mothers wombes the tyring houses be,
When we are drest for this short Comedy,
Heaven the Judicious sharpe spector is,
That sits and markes still who doth act amisse,
Our graves that hide us from the searching Sun,
Are like drawne curtaynes when the play is done,
Thus march we playing to our latest rest,
Onely we dye in earnest, that's no Jest.
Just couldn't help repeating Sir Walter Ralegh... Those lines: "Our graves that hide us..." are great.
What is our life? a play of passion,
Our mirth the musicke of division,
Our mothers wombes the tyring houses be,
When we are drest for this short Comedy,
Heaven the Judicious sharpe spector is,
That sits and markes still who doth act amisse,
Our graves that hide us from the searching Sun,
Are like drawne curtaynes when the play is done,
Thus march we playing to our latest rest,
Onely we dye in earnest, that's no Jest.
Just couldn't help repeating Sir Walter Ralegh... Those lines: "Our graves that hide us..." are great.
posted by Tiny dancer | 12:33 AM
5 Comments:
There is something in Sir Walter Raleigh that moves me in an indescribable way...
His account of the world in terms of theatre may not be excessively original, but it is something I definitely agree with (see Jorgito's "Yo y el mundo" in Nec Spe Nec Metu, 21/12/06).
Sir Tazón is making this year a year of discovery.
Why don't we claim 2007, Tazon's year?
Good idea :-P
Why does it appear as RalEIgh or RalEgh depending on the source of information?
I don't know :S
Sham_rock, it's because of the British spelling (like how color is colour, favor is favour, etc).
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