poem index


William Dunbar

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by this poet

I that in heill was and gladness
Am trublit now with great sickness
And feblit with infirmitie:
   Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Our plesance here is all vain glory,
This fals world is but transitory,
The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee:
   Timor Mortis conturbat me. 

The state of man does