All sweet delight of summer past, cold winter’s breath had blasted,
The sunne in heau’n shone pale on earth to see her wombe so wasted:
All which, as I grieu’d at such sight, the fields alone did range,
Did teach me know all things on earth were subiect vnto change:
How fond (me thought) were mortall men, the trustlesse stay to trust,
Of things on earth, since heere on earth all things returne to dust?
Who so in youth doth boast of strength, me thought the loftie oake
Would teach him that his strength must vade, when age begins to yoke
His youthfull necke, euen by it selfe, his leauie lockes being shed,
And branched armes shrunke vp with frost, as if they had been dead: