This Indigested Vomit Of The Sea,fell To

Art Indeed Is Long, But Life Is Short.

The Grave's A Fine And Private Place, But None, I Think, Do There Embrace.

Ye Country Comets, That Portend No War, Nor Prince's Funeral, Shining Unto No Higher End Than To Presage The Grasses Fall. . . .

This Indigested Vomit Of The Sea,fell To The Dutch By Just Propriety.

What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead! Ripe Apples Drop About My Head; The Luscious Clusters Of The Vine Upon My Mouth Do Crush Their Wine; The Nectarine And Curious Peach Into My Hands Themselves Do Reach; Stumbling On Melons, As I Pass, Ensnared With Flowers, I Fall On Grass.