A Reflection upon Age

DIM Eyes, deaf Ears, cold Stomach, shew My Dissolution is in View: The Shuttle's thrown, my Race is run, My Sun is set, my Work is done; My Span is out, my Tale is told, My Flower's decay'd, and Stock grown old. The Dream is past, the Shadow's fled, My Soul now longs for Christ, my Head. I've liv'd to Seventy Six, or nigh, GOD calls at last, and now I'll die.