“My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn is but a field of tares, And all my good is but vain hope of gain:… — Chidiock Tichborne Copy Share Image
“My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn… — Chidiock Tichborne Copy Share Image
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn… — Chidiock Tichborne Copy Share Image
“. . . My glass is full, and now my glass is run, And now I live, and now my life is done.” — Chidiock Tichborne Copy Share Image
