Tears for a hundred years of work undone,
Crying like blood to Heaven.
Wm. Alexander.
My life, my beautiful life, all wasted;
The gold days, the blue days, to darkness sunk;
The bread was here, and I have not tasted:
The wine was here, and I have not drunk.
Richard Middleton.
I do not find these lines in Middleton’s collected works, but I think they are his.