Classic Poem

1.

What do I here! what's beauty? 'las,
How doth it pass!
As flowers, as soon as smelled at,
Evaporate,
Even so this shadow, ere our eyes
Can view it, flies.

2.

What's colour? 'las! the sullen Night
Can it affright:
A rose can more vermilion speak,
Than any cheek;
A richer white on lilies stands,
Than any hands.

3.

Then what's that worth, when any flower
Is worth far more?
How constant's that, which needs must die,
When day doth fly?
Glow-worms can lend some petty light
To gloomy Night.

4.

And what's proportion? we descry
That in a fly.
And what's a lip? 'tis in the test,
Red clay at best.
And what's an eye? an eaglet's are
More strong by far.

5.

Who can that specious nothing heed,
Which flies exceed?
Who would his frequent kisses lay
On painted clay?
Wh'ould not, if eyes affection move,
Young eaglets love?

6.

Is Beauty thus? then who would lie
Love-sick and die?
And 's wretched self annihilate,
For knows not what?
And with such sweat and care invade
A very shade?

7.

Even he, that knows not to possess
True happiness,
But has some strong desires to try
What's misery,
And longs for tears; oh! he will prove
One fit for love.