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My Prime of Youth

by Chidiock Tichborne
[on the eve of his execution 1586]


    My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
    My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
    My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
    And all my good is but vain hope of gain.
    The day is gone and yet I saw no sun,
    And now I live, and now my life is done.

    [My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,]
    The spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung,
    My fruit is falne, and yet my leaves are green,
    My youth is spent, and yet I am but young,
    I saw the world, and yet I was not seen,
    My thread is cut, and yet it was not spun,
    And now I live, and yet my life is done.

    I sought my death, and found it in the womb,
    I lookt on life, and saw it was a shade,
    I trode the earth, and knew it was my tomb,
    And now I die, and now I was but made.
    The glass is full, and now my hourglass is run,
    And now I live, and now my life is done.





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