Henry King

Here you will find the Poem Sic Vita of poet Henry King

Sic Vita

Like to the falling of a star, 
Or as the flights of eagles are, 
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue, 
Or silver drops of morning dew, 
Or like a wind that chafes the flood, 
Or bubbles which on water stood: 
Even such is man, whose borrowed light 
Is straight called in, and paid to night. 
The wind blows out, the bubble dies; 
The spring entombed in autumn lies; 
The dew dries up, the star is shot; 
The flight is past, and man forgot.