Our long sweet sommers day of youthfull yeares
Drawen to his evening late and durefull night
By drooping age in whose bleame face appeares
Times carelesse scarrs and loves extinguisht light.
Calls our spent hopes to take the poore remaine
Of Glorie, Pryde, excesse, and wanton joyes
Fancies out worne, all perisht but the paine
Love lent to losse, Time truckt away for toyes
Th'accompts, the thoughts, the memories of these
(Mett with a mind reclaim'd by virtues lore)
Are of our hearts the sorrow sucking Bees
Whilst sad repentance straines to paie the score
With sighing seekes, beginings, after ends:
Armes after wounds, and mones without amends.