Our Revels Now Are Ended

The fact that life is transient
Is part of its liveliness

The poets in speaking of the transience of the world
Always utter their best poetry
You know

Our revels now are ended
These our actors
As I foretold you
Were all spirits and
Are melted into air
Into thin air
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision
The cloud-capp'd towers
The gorgeous palaces
The solemn temples
The great globe itself
Yea, all which it inherit
Shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded
Leave not a rack behind
We are such stuff
As dreams are made of
We are such stuff
As dreams are made of
We are such stuff
As dreams are made of
And our little life
Is rounded with a sleep

When said so well it doesn't seem so bad after all does it?
You see there's always
In in the the poetry of evanescence
A kind of funny nostalgia
Moralists will say
Those lovely lips which you so delight to kiss today
Will in a few years rot and disclose the grinning teeth of a skull
So what?
So what?
The skull says
Lying in the grass
Chattering Finch and water fly
Are not merrier than I
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly
Though I may not tell the best
Surely friends I could have guessed
Death was but the good Kings jest
It was hid so carefully