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.