Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/36

 What, you'd say—'Mark how God works! Years crowd, time wears thin, Earth keeps good yet, the sun goes on, stars hold their own, And you'll change, climb past sight of the world, shift your skin, Never heeding how life moans—"more flesh now, less bone!" For that cheek's worn waste outline (death's grin)

Pleads with time still—"what good if I lose this? but see— (There's the crab gone!) I said, 'Though earth sinks,' (you perceive?