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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115394" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Of the Four Ages of Man</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo, now four other act upon the stage,<br>Childhood and Youth, the Many and Old age:<br>The first son unto phlegm, grandchild to water,<br>Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature<br>The second, frolic, claims his pedigree<br>From blood and air, for hot and moist is he.<br>The third of fire and choler is compos'd,<br>Vindicative and quarrelsome dispos'd.<br>The last of earth and heavy melancholy,<br>Solid, hating all lightness and all folly.<br>Childhood was cloth'd in white and green to show<br>His spring was intermixed with some snow:<br>Upon his head nature a garland set<br>Of Primrose, Daisy and the Violet.<br>Such cold mean flowers the spring puts forth betime,<br>Before the sun hath thoroughly heat the clime.<br>His hobby striding did not ride but run,<br>And in his hand an hour-glass new begun,<br>In danger every moment of a fall,<br>And when 't is broke then ends his life and all:<br>But if he hold till it have run its last,<br>Then may he live out threescore years or past.<br>Next Youth came up in gorgeous attire<br>(As that fond age doth most of all desire),<br>His suit of crimson and his scarf of green,<br>His pride in's countenance was quickly seen;<br>Garland of roses, pinks and gillyflowers<br>Seemed on's head to grow bedew'd with showers.<br>His face as fresh as is Aurora fair,<br>When blushing she first 'gins to light the air.<br>No wooden horse, but one of mettle tried,<br>He seems to fly or swim, and not to ride.<br>Then prancing on the stage, about he wheels,<br>But as he went death waited at his heels,<br>The next came up in a much graver sort,<br>As one that cared for a good report,<br>His sword by's side, and choler in his eyes,<br>But neither us'd as yet, for he was wise;<br>Of Autumn's fruits a basket on his arm,<br>His golden god in's purse, which was his charm.<br>And last of all to act upon this stage<br>Leaning upon his staff came up Old Age,<br>Under his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore,<br>An harvest of the best, what needs he more?<br>In's other hand a glass ev'n almost run,<br>Thus writ about: "This out, then am I done."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Bradstreet">Anne Bradstreet</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115394" data-title="Of the Four Ages of Man de Anne Bradstreet" data-description="Lo, now four other act upon the stage,/Childhood and Youth, the Many and Old age:/The first son unto phlegm, grandchild to water,/Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature/The second, frolic, claims his pedigree/From blood and air, for hot and..."></div>
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