210 The Isham MS.
My prime of youth is but a froste of cares.
My feaste of Joy is but a dish of paine.
My cropp of corne is but a feild of tares.
and all my good is but vayne hope of gayne
The day is paste and yet I saw no sonne
And now I liue and now my life is donne
My tale was harde, and yet it was not told
my frute is falne, and yet my leaues are greene
My youth is spent and yet I am not old.
I saw ye world and yet I was not seene
My thread is cut, and yet it is not sponne
And now I liue and now my lief is donne.
I sought my death and found it in my wombe.
