PPT Slide
But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
that long preserv’d virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave’s a fine a private place,
But none I think do there embrace