The Hour-Glass

Philippe de Champaigne

Still Life with Tulip, Skull, and Hour-Glass

The Hour-Glass

Consider this small dust, here in the glass,

By atoms moved:

Could you believe that this the body was

Of one that loved;

And in his mistress' flame playing like a fly,

Was turned to cinders by her eye:

Yes ; and in death, as life unblest,

To have't exprest,

Even ashes of lovers find no rest.

~ Ben Johnson ~