The Permanencie of Life

Life a right shadow is,
For if it long appeare,
Then is it spent, and deathe's long night drawes neare:
Shadowes are mouing, light,
And is there ought so mouing as is this?
When it is most in sight,
It steales away, and none can tell how, where,
So neere our cradles to our coffines are.
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