vendredi 23 octobre 2009
lundi 21 septembre 2009
jeudi 3 septembre 2009
Vanitas VanitatumAll 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 the ambition of kings
Who seek by trophies and dead things
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.