All flesh is grass, and all its glory fades
Like the fair flower dishevell’d in the wind;
Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream;
The man we celebrate must find a tomb,
And we that worship him, ignoble graves.

William Cowper (1731-1800) English poet
The Task, Book 3 “The Garden,” l. 261ff (1785)

Added on 21-Aug-23 | Last updated 21-Aug-23
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