Tichborne's+Elegy

Chidiock Tichborne's Elegy[[image:http://www.historic-uk.com/DestinationsUK/WhiteTower.jpg width="400" height="393" align="right"]]
//written with his own hand in the Tower before his execution// 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. The day is past, and yet I saw no sun, And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard and yet it was not told, My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green; My youth is spent and yet I am not old, I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it is not spun, And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death and found it in my womb, I looked for life and saw it was a shade; I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb, And now I die, and now I was but made. My glass is full, and now my glass is run, And now I live, and now my life is done.