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