Poem by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester

Sic Vita

Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are,
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew,
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood:
Even such is man, whose borrowed light
Is straight called in, and paid to night.
The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entombed in autumn lies;
The dew dries up, the star is shot;
The flight is past, and man forgot. 

1. To the Queen at Oxford
2. The Boyes Answer To The Blackmoor
3. Another Of The Same, Paraphrased For An Antheme
4. Upon A Table-Book Presented To A Lady
5. To His Friends of Christ-Church upon the Mislike of the Marriage of the Arts Acted at Woodstock

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