Unattributed Author

Our life's a flying shadow, God the pole,
The needle pointing to Him is our soul.

Our life's a flying shadow, God the pole,
The needle pointing to Him is our soul.

To shoot at crows is powder flung away.

To shoot at crows is powder flung away.

As I saw fair Chloris walk alone,
The feather'd snow came softly down,
As Jove, descending from read more

As I saw fair Chloris walk alone,
The feather'd snow came softly down,
As Jove, descending from his tow'r
To court her in a silver show'r.
The wanton snow flew to her breast,
As little birds into their nest;
But o'ercome with whiteness there,
For grief dissolv'd into a tear.
Thence falling on her garment hem,
To deck her, froze into a gem.

As drifting logs of wood may haply meet
On ocean's waters surging to and fro,
And having read more

As drifting logs of wood may haply meet
On ocean's waters surging to and fro,
And having met, drift once again apart,
So, fleeting is the intercourse of men.
E'en as a traveler meeting with the shade
Of some o'erhung tree, awhile reposes,
Then leaves its shelter to pursue his ways,
So men meet friends, then part with them for ever.

This is the best world, that we live in,
To lend and to spend and to give in:
read more

This is the best world, that we live in,
To lend and to spend and to give in:
But to borrow, or beg, or to get a man's own,
It is the worst world that ever was known.