As withereth the Primrose by the river,
As fadeth Sommers-sunne from gliding fountaines;
As vanisheth the light blowne bubble ever,
As melteth snow upon the mossie Mountaines.
So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers,
The Rose, the shine, the bubble and the snow,
Of praise, pompe, glorie, joy (which short life gathers,)
Faire praise, vaine pompe, sweet glory, brittle joy.
The withered Primrose by the mourning river,
The faded Sommers-sunne from weeping fountaines:
The light-blowne bubble, vanished for ever,
The molten snow upon the naked mountaines,
Are Emblems that the treasures we up-lay,
Soone wither, vanish, fade and melt away.

For as the snowe, whose lawne did over-spread
Th’ ambitious hills, which Giant-like did threat
To pierce the heaven with theyr aspiring head,
Naked and bare doth leave their craggie seate.
When as the bubble, which did emptie flie
The daliance of the undiscerned winde:
On whose calme rowling waves it did relie,
Hath shipwrack made, where it did daliance finde:
And when the Sun-shine which dissolv’d the snow,
Cullourd the bubble with a pleasant varie,
And made the rathe and timely Primrose grow,
Swarth clowdes with-drawne (which longer time doth tarie)
Oh what is praise, pompe, glory, joy, but so
As shine by fountaines, bubbles, flowers or snow?