Poem - "On The Life Of Man" by William Strode

"On The Life Of Man" 
by William Strode


What is our life? a play of passion;

Our mirth the musick of division:
Our mother's wombes the tyring houses bee
Where wee are drest for tyme's short comedy:
The earth's the stage, heaven the spectator is,
Who marketh still whoere doth act amisse:
Our graves that hide us from the burning sunne
Are but drawne curtaynes when the play is done.