And lusty life away she leapes, As there had bene none such. My muse doth not delight Me as she did before: (15) My hand and pen are not in plight, As they haue bene of yore. For reason me denies, This youthly idle rime: And day by day to me she cries, (20) Leaue of these toyes in time. The wrinkles in my brow, The furrowes in my face: Say limping age will hedge him now, Where youth must geue him place. (25) The harbinger of death, To me I see him ride: The cough, the cold, the gasping breath, Doth bid me to prouide. A pikeax and a spade, (30) And eke a shrowding shete, A house of clay for to be made, For such a gest most mete. Me thinkes I heare the clarke, That knoles the carefull knell: (35) And bids me leaue my wofull warke, Ere nature me compell. My kepers knit the knot, That youth did laugh to scorne: Of me that clene shalbe forgot, (40) As I had not bene borne. Thus must I youth giue vp, Whose badge I long did weare: To them I yelde the wanton cup That better may it beare. (45) Lo here the bared scull, By whose balde signe I know: +That stouping age away shall pull, which youthfull yeres did sow. For beauty with her band (50) These croked cares hath wrought: And shipped me into the land, From whence I first was brought.