But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be … - Andrew Marvell

But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near

The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.

But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.

But at my back I always hear Time's wingèd 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 preserved virginity, And your quaint honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.

An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart.

For Juliana comes, and she, what I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.

Art indeed is long, but life is short.