Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

SINCE Nature’s works be good, and death doth serve

As Nature’s work, why should we fear to die?

Since fear is vain but when it may preserve,

Why should we fear that which we cannot fly?

Fear is more pain than is the pain it fears,

Disarming human minds of native might,

While each conceit an ugly figure bears,

Which were not evil, viewed in reason’s light.

Our owly eyes, which dimmed with passions be,

And scarce discern the dawn of coming day,

Let them be cleared, and now begin to see

Our life is but a step in dusty way.

Then let us hold the bliss of peaceful mind;

Since this we feel, great loss we cannot find.