It taught mee well, all earthly things be borne
To dye the death: for nought long time may last:
The sommer’s beauty yeeldes to winter’s blast.
9.
Then looking vpward to the heauen’s leames,[1494]
With nighte’s starres[1495] thicke powdred euery where,
Which erst so glistned with the golden streames
That chearfull Phœbus spred downe from his sphere
Beholding darke, oppressing day, so neare:
The sodayne sight reduced to my mynde,