"The Hour Glass"

"The Hour Glass"

Consider this small dust,here is in the glass, By atoms mov'd: Could you belive that this the body was  Of one that lov'd And in his mistress' flame playing like a fly   was turned to cinders by her eye: Yes;And in the death ,As life unblest,To have't exprest, Even ashes of  lovers find no rest!


Follow a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly it, it will pursue: So Court a mistress, She Dines you; Let Her Alone, She will cour you. Say, Are Not women truly, then,  Styled but the sadows of us men?
At morn and even shades are longest; At noon they are or short or none; So men at weakest, they are strongest, But grant us perfect, they're not known. Say are not woman truly,then  Styled but the sgadows of us men?