Song From The Devil’S Law-Case

ALL the flowers of the spring Meet to perfume our burying; These have but their growing prime, And man does flourish but his time. Survey our progress from our birth; We’re set, we grow, we turn to earth, Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites! Sweetest breath and clearest eye, Like perfumes, go out and die; And consequently this is done As shadows wait upon the sun. Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.