Classic Poem

the soull having examined the world, sum'd her up, & found, her, empty, vain, & deceitfull, take its solemn farwell beforehand. July 12

Oh world, what is in thee, to be desir'd
What great things, have those, that love thee acquir'd
What reall good doe those receive from thee
That give them selfs, thy druges for to bee
Letts veiw thee round, & stricktly now enquire
Didst ever fill, or satisfie desire
Those that have had, the most of thee, have found
Ther vesals empty when they them, doe sound
What canst thou do, when we to thee do call
Canst thou, from wrath, deliver us att all
When we into a-nother world do goe
No comfort can from thee, unto us flow
If lean'd upon, thou wilt deceive our hopes
Our confidence, shall prove, but sandy ropes
When we doe, count, and sum up all thy tresure
All we can find, is honour, profit, plesure
And of thesse three, thou hast but the bare name
But nothing, in deed, or truth, of the same
Thy honour's but a windy puff which will
Not once, att all, satisfie us, or fill
Thy plesure, that is altogather vain
An after-sting, is all by itt we gain
Thy profitt, riches, thats but vanity
Which will take wing, and soon from us will fly
Then world, before thou shalt me thus deceive
I will of thee now take, my solemn leave
I'le thrust thee now, out of this hart of mine
Before thou shut on me thosse doors of thine
Least I should have my Lodging for to look
When thou shalt utterly, have me forsook
Ile now make sure on't in that world above
transporting all in order to remove
And only use thee, as a passenger
His inne, that's going to a countrey far
Where is his only home, & wher he knows
He shall be truly welcome made by those
Which doe expect his coming, ther to dwell
Once more vain world, I bid thee now farwell.