Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
DeliaSonnet XLV. Beauty, sweet love! is like the morning dew
Samuel Daniel (15621619)B
Whose short refresh upon the tender green,
Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show:
And straight ’tis gone, as it had never been.
Soon doth it fade, that makes the fairest flourish;
Short is the glory of the blushing rose:
The hue which thou so carefully dost nourish;
Yet which, at length, thou must be forced to lose.
When thou, surcharged with burden of thy years,
Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth;
When Time hath made a passport for thy fears,
Dated in age, the Kalends of our death:
But, ah! no more! This hath been often told;
And women grieve to think they must be old.