Passing And Glassing

                All things that pass                 Are woman's looking-glass; They show her how her bloom must fade, And she herself be laid With withered roses in the shade;         With withered roses and the fallen peach,         Unlovely, out of reach                 Of summer joy that was.                 All things that pass                 Are woman's tiring-glass; The faded lavender is sweet, Sweet the dead violet Culled and laid by and cared for yet;         The dried-up violets and dried lavender         Still sweet, may comfort her,                 Nor need she cry Alas!                 All things that pass                 Are wisdom's looking-glass; Being full of hope and fear, and still Brimful of good or ill, According to our work and will;         For there is nothing new beneath the sun;         Our doings have been done,                 And that which shall be was.