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English Songs and Ballads

by T. W. H. Crosland

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Thinking

Lord Vaux

When all is done and said,
 In the end thus shall you find,
He most of all doth bathe in bliss
 That hath a quiet mind:
And, clear from worldly cares,
 To deem can be content
The sweetest time in all his life
 In thinking to be spent.

The body subject is
 To fickle Fortune’s power,
And to a million of mishaps
 Is casual every hour:
And Death in time doth change
 It to a clod of clay;
Whenas the mind, which is divine,
 Runs never to decay.

Companion none is like
 Unto the mind alone;
For many have been harmed by speech;
 Through thinking, few, or none.
Fear oftentimes restraineth words,
 But makes not thought to cease;
And he speaks best that hath the skill
 When for to hold his peace.

Our wealth leaves us at death;
 Our kinsmen at the grave;
But virtues of the mind unto
 The heavens with us we have.
Wherefore, for virtue’s sake,
 I can be well content,
The sweetest time of all my life
 To deem in thinking spent.

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