Vita tota dies vnus

OF all our life, behold the very summe,
Which as this flower, continues but a day:
Our youth is morne, our middle age is come
By noone, at night as fast we doe decay,
As doth this Lillie flowring with the Sunne,
But withered ere, his race be fully runne.

Wherefore our life's resembled to a shippe,
Which passeth on, though we doe what we please,
A shade, a flower, that every frost doth nippe,
A dreame, a froath, a waue vpon the Seas,
Which hath a while his being, till anon,
Some else intrude, and hee's forgot and gon.