Author Ralph Erskine We're but of yesterday's new mould, Our life's of no regard,When with our long-liv'd fathers old And ancestors compar'd.No knowledge nor experience we Can ever justly boast:Our days like shadows are that flee, No sooner had than lost. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments