I’ve got a story ain’t got no moral:
At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
According to a paper co-written by Jan Souman, a research scientist in Germany, and featured on NPR,
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
people, when blindfolded,
And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.
cannot walk in a straight line;
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.
We naturally walk in circles;
And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
around and back again,
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
ending up where we started:
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.