Anon. The pleasant years that seem, so swift that run: The merry days to end, so fast that fleet: The joyful nights, of which day dawns so soon: The happy hours, which mo [13] do miss, than meet, Do all consume, as snow against the sun: And death makes end of all, that life begun. Since death shall dure, till all the world be waste: What meaneth man to dread death then so sore? As man might make [14] , that life should alway last, Without regard [15] , the LORD hath led before The dance of death, which all must run on row: Though how, or when, the LORD alone doth know. If man would mind, what burdens life doth bring: What grievous crimes to GOD he doth commit: What plagues, what pangs, what perils thereby spring: With no sure hour in all his days to sit: He would sure think, as with great cause I do: The day of death were better of the two. Death is a port, whereby we pass to joy: Life is a lake, that drowneth all in pain: Death is so dear, it ceaseth all annoy: Life is so lewd [16] , that all it yields is vain. And as, by life, to bondage man is brought: E'en so likewise by death was freedom wrought. Footnotes: [13] mo, more [14] make, apparently, desire or aim [15] regard, regarding that [16] lewd, foolish |