Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, lea

learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renownéd be thy grave.

SONNETS.

17

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep afresh love's long-since-cancelled woe,

And moan the expense of many a vanished sight.

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's

WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent
thought
Isummon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away,

rest.

Death's second self, that seals up all in In me thou seest the glowing of such That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

fire,

Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave erelong.

Unmovéd, cold, and to temptation slow; They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, And husband nature's riches from ex

do change:

Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothingstrange; They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire