William Strode, a 17 th century English poet defines life in his poem. He thinks-
Life is a play of passion with our laughter and joy for music; Life is a short comedy by Time for which we get ready in our mother’s wombs; This play is acted out on the earth which is the stage with the Gods as the spectator, He who will decide when we meet our end; And the curtains come down when we are laid to rest.
For us, life - sure, cannot be fit into eight lines. We are common people facing complications in every corner. Our troubles and worries just seem endless. Every day brings us happiness and sorrow alike. Today’s life paces ahead and we forget to see the simple joys and bigger problems. Only a luxury car can bring us happiness and our child’s ‘18/20’ for a class test can depress us.
At times you may not be able to define your worries. Problems can neither be compared nor adjudged on the severity of the outcomes. Write to us about them. Our experts’ team is all ears to you.
On the life of man
What is our life? a play of passion;
Our mirth the musick of division:
Our mother's wombes the tyring houses bee
Where wee are drest for tyme's short comedy:
The earth's the stage, heaven the spectator is,
Who marketh still whoere doth act amisse:
Our graves that hide us from the burning sunne
Are but drawne curtaynes when the play is done.
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