What is our life? A play of passion,
Our mirth the music of division,
Our mother’s wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for this short comedy.
Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is,
That sits and marks still who doth act amiss.
Our graves that hide us from the setting sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus march we, playing, to our latest rest,
Only we die in earnest, that’s no jest.
(Sir Walter Raleigh)
More Poetry from Sir Walter Raleigh:
Sir Walter Raleigh Poems based on Topics: Life, Heaven, Passion, Music, Comedy- As You Came from the Holy Land (Sir Walter Raleigh Poems)
- Prais'd be Diana's Fair and Harmless Light (Sir Walter Raleigh Poems)
- Hymn (Sir Walter Raleigh Poems)
- Sir Walter Raleigh to His Son (Sir Walter Raleigh Poems)
- A Vision upon the Fairy Queen (Sir Walter Raleigh Poems)
- Sir Walter Raleigh (The night before his death) (Sir Walter Raleigh Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Life Poems, Heaven Poems, Music Poems, Passion Poems, Comedy PoemsBased on Keywords: wombs, judicious