A Fast-Flying Cloud

It's been weeks since the opportunity to paint has presented itself. Between art class and lab two days a week, and the Earth Gallery show, and company, then Reese's mom passing away.....it's been virtually impossible to carve out time for painting.

Life....and death crowds in; and time creeps, marches, and then speeds past.

Here's a verse by William Knox. I've left out the middle of the poem, which can be read in it's entirety by clicking on the link.


Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around, and together be laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie.

'Tis the wink of an eye -- 'tis the draught of a breath--
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:--
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?