Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.
Man maketh a death which Nature never made.
On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
As soon as we have found the key of life, it opens the gates of death.
Affliction is the good man's shining scene; prosperity conceals his brightest ray; as night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.