What If A Day

What if a day or a month or a year
Crown thy delights with a thousand sweet contentings
May not the change of a night or an hour
Cross thy desires with as many sad tormentings
Fortune, honor, beauty youth
Are but blossoms dying
Wanton pleasure, doting love
Are but shadows flying
All our joys are but toys
Idle thoughts deceiving
None hath power of an hour
In their lives' bereaving

Earth's but a point to the world, and a man
Is but a point to the world's compared centure
Shall than the point of a point be so vain
As to triumph in a silly point's adventure?
As is hazard that we have
There is nothing biding
Days of pleasure are like streams
Through fair meadows gliding
Weal and woe, time doth go
Time is never turning
Secret fates guide our states
Both in mirth and mourning

--Thomas Campion
1606