Life's a name <br />That nothing here can truly claim; <br />This wretched inn, where we scarce stay to bait, <br />We call our dwelling-place! <br />And mighty voyages we take, <br />And mighty journeys seem to make, <br />O'er sea and land, the little point that has no space. <br />Because we fight and battles gain, <br />Some captives call, and say, 'the rest are slain'; <br />Because we heap up yellow earth, and so <br />Rich, valiant, wise, and virtuous seem to grow; <br />Because we draw a long nobility <br />From hieroglyphic proofs of heraldry- <br />We grow at last by Custom to believe, <br />That really we Live; <br />Whilst all these Shadows, that for Things we take, <br />Are but the empty Dreams which in Death's sleep we make.<br /><br />Abraham Cowley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-795/
