Poem

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 past 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
My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green
My youth is spent and yet I am not old
I saw the world and yet I was not seen
My thread is cut and yet it is not spun
And now I live and now my life is done

I sought my death and found it in my womb
I looked for life and saw it was a shade
I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb
And now I die and now I was but made
My glass is full and now  my glass is run
And now I live and now my life is done 


######
Written by a young man
In 1586 before he was beheaded tichborne....