Time is the roof of all this earth
These creatures, who from time
Had birth
Within his bosom at the end
Shall sleep
Time has neither enemy nor friend
All we in one long caravan
Are journeying since the world
Began
We know not whither, but we know
Time guides at the front, and all
Must go
Like as the wind upon the field
Bows every herb, and all must yield
So we beneath time’s passing breath
Bow each in turn – why tears for birth or death.
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