This Life, which seems so fair, <br />Is like a bubble blown up in the air <br />By sporting children's breath, <br />Who chase it everywhere <br />And strive who can most motion it bequeath. <br />And though it sometimes seem of its own might <br />Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there, <br />And firm to hover in that empty height, <br />That only is because it is so light. <br />But in that pomp it doth not long appear; <br />For when 'tis most admired, in a thought, <br />Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought.<br /><br />William Henry Drummond<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-life-which-seems-so-fair/
