A Contemplation on Man's Life

VILE Composition, Earth inspir'd with Breath,
Man, that at first wert made of Dust and Tears
And then by Law Divine condemn'd to Death;
When wilt thou check thy Lusts in their Carreers?

Change all thy Mirth to Sorrow, and repent,
That thou so often didst just Heav'n offend,
Deplore thy precious Hours so vainly spent,
If thou wilt 'scape such Pains as have no end.

The gaping Grave expects thee as its right,
'Tis a straight place, but can contain with ease,
Honour, Command, Wealth, Beauty, and Delight,
And all that does our Carnal Senses please.

Only th'immortal Soul can never dye,
Therefore on that thy utmost Care employ.