Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.
Vita Tota Dies VnutLVIII. Henry Peacham
O
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 withred ere his race be fully runne.
Which passeth on, though we do what we please;
A shade, a flower that euery frost doth nippe,
A dreame, a froath, a waue vpon the seas,
Which hath awhile his being, till anon
Some else intrude, and hee’s forgot and gon.