This Life Which Seems So Fair

This Life, which seems so fair
Is like a bubble blown up in the air
By sporting children's breath
Who chase it everywhere
And strive who can most motion it bequeath
And though it sometimes seem of its own might
Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there
And firm to hover in that empty height
That only is because it is so light
But in that pomp it doth not long appear;
For when 'tis most admired, in a thought
Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought