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
On The Life Of Man
William Strode
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Poem topics: heaven, life, mother, passion, earth, hide, short, stage, play, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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