Talis, inquiens, mihi videtur, rex, vita hominum praesens in terris, ad comparationem eius, quod nobis incertum est, temporis, quale cum te residente, ad caenam cum ducibus ac ministris tuis tempore brumale†adveniens unus passerum domum citissime, pervolaverit; qui cum per unum ostium ingrediens, mox per aliud exierit. Ipso quidem tempore, quo intus est, hiemis tempestate non tangitur, sed tamen parvissimo spatio serenitatis ad momentum excurso, mox de hieme in hiemem regrediens, tuis oculis elabitur. Ita haec vita hominum ad modicum apparet; quid autem sequatur, quidve praecesserit, prorsus ignoramus. 'Such,' he said,'O King, seems to me the present life of menon earth, incomparisonwiththattimewhichtousis uncertain, as if when on a winter's night you sit feasting with your ealdormen and thegnsöa single sparrow should flyswiftly intothehall, and coming inat one door, instantly flyoutthrough another.Inthattime inwhichit is indoorsit isindeed nottouched by thefuryofthewinter, and yet, this smallest space of calmness being passed almost in a flash, from winter going into winter again, it is lost to your eyes. Somewhat like this appears the life of man; but of what follows or what went before, we are utterly ignorant.'

-Bede known as  'theVenerable'
Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis  Anglorum (Ecclesiastical History of the English People, translated byB Colgrave,1969), bk.2, ch.13.

How amiable are thy tabernacles,O L of hosts! 96 My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the L: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Yea, thesparrow hath found anhouse, and theswallowa nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars,O L of hosts, my King, and my God.

-Bible (Old Testament)
ORDORDORDPsalms 84:1^3.

   Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurled, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

-Pope, Alexander
  An Essay on Man, epistle1, l.87^90.

The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves, The brilliant moon and all the milky sky, And all that famous harmony of leaves, Has blotted out man's image and his cry.

-Yeats,W(illiam) B(utler)
  'The Sorrow of Love', stanza1. Collected inThe Rose (1893).