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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