What is beauty but a flower,
That blossoms withers, droops, and dies;
The transient bauble of an hour,
That fades away before our eyes?
What is life? ’tis but a vapour,
Vanishing e’en while ’tis day;
Or a feeble, glimmering taper,
While it burns it wastes away.
What is death? that awful moment,
Summoning the soul from earth;
To dwell in everlasting torment,
Or in bliss and holy mirth.
What is eternity? oh! say
Can mortal words its length express;
It is a never-ending day,
That must remain when time shall cease.