How like a golden dream you met and parted

How like a golden dream you met and parted,
That pleasing straight doth vanish!
O who can ever banish
The thought of one so princely and free-hearted!
But he was pulled up in his prime by fate,
And love for him must mourn though all too late.
Tears to the dead are due, let none forbid
Sad hearts to sigh: true grief cannot be hid.

Yet the most bitter storm to height increased
By heaven again is ceased:
O time, that all things movest,
In grief and joy thou equal measure lovest:
Such the condition is of human life,
Care must with pleasure mix and peace with strife:
Thoughts with the days must change; as tapers waste,
So must our griefs; day breaks when night is past.