letra de sir walter raleigh - life - ghizela rowe
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what is our life? the play of passion
our mirth? the music of division:
our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be
where we are dressed for life’s short comedy
the earth the stage; heaven the spectator is
who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss
the graves which hide us from the scorching sun
are like drawn curtains when the play is done
thus playing post we to our latest rest
and then we die in earnest, not in jest
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