Classic Poem

My life's a maze of seeming traps,
A scene of miseries and mishaps;
A heap of jarring to and froes,
A field of joys, a flood of woes.

I'm in mine own and others' eyes,
A labyrinth of mysteries,
I'm something that from nothing came,
Yet sure it is, I nothing am.

Once I was dead, and blind, and lame,
Yea, I continue still the same;
Yet what I was, I am no more,
Nor ever shall be as before.