Vanitas Vanitatum, Omnia Vanitas by Anne Bronte (writing as Acton Bell)
In all we do, and hear, and see,
Is restless Toil and Vanity.
While yet the rolling earth abides,
Men come and go like ocean tides;
And ere one generation dies,
Another in its place shall rise;
THAT, sinking soon into the grave,
Others succeed, like wave on wave;
And as they rise, they pass away.
The sun arises every day,
And hastening onward to the West,
He nightly sinks, but not to rest:
Returning to the eastern skies,
Again to light us, he must rise.
And still the restless wind comes forth,
Now blowing keenly from the North;
Now from the South, the East, the West,
For ever changing, ne'er at rest.
The fountains, gushing from the hills,
Supply the ever-running rills;
The thirsty rivers drink their store,
And bear it rolling to the shore,
But still the ocean craves for more.
'Tis endless labour everywhere!
Sound cannot satisfy the ear,
Light cannot fill the craving eye,
Nor riches half our wants supply,
Pleasure but doubles future pain,
And joy brings sorrow in her train;
Laughter is mad, and reckless mirth--
What does she in this weary earth?
Should Wealth, or Fame, our Life employ,
Death comes, our labour to destroy;
To snatch the untasted cup away,
For which we toiled so many a day.
What, then, remains for wretched man?
To use life's comforts while he can,
Enjoy the blessings Heaven bestows,
Assist his friends, forgive his foes;
Trust God, and keep His statutes still,
Upright and firm, through good and ill;
Thankful for all that God has given,
Fixing his firmest hopes on Heaven;
Knowing that earthly joys decay,
But hoping through the darkest day.
There is nothing like Bronte poetry to really make you depressed.....Here's the other reference, which is more succinct:
Vanitas Vanitatum by John Webster
- ALL the flowers of the spring
- Meet to perfume our burying;
- These have but their growing prime,
- And man does flourish but his time:
- Survey our progress from our birth;
- We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.
- Courts adieu, and all delights,
- All bewitching appetites!
- Sweetest breath and clearest eye,
- Like perfumes, go out and die;
- And consequently this is done
- As shadows wait upon the sun.
- Vain ambition of kings
- Who seek by trophies and dead things
- To leave a living name behind,
- And weave but nets to catch the wind.
I personally believe you. But maybe she was referring to the Latin belief which goes deep into philosophy of us.
Posted by: Melinda | August 9, 2006 2:35 PM | Permalink to Comment