Threnos

Beauty, truth, and rarity. Grace in all simplicity, Here enclos’d in cinders lie.

Death is now the phoenix’ nest; And the turtle’s loyal breast To eternity doth rest.

Leaving no posterity:— ’Twas not their infirmity, It was married chastity.

Truth may seem, but cannot be; Beauty brag, but ’tis not she; Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair That are either true or fair; For these dead birds sigh a prayer.