LXXVI Sic Transit
Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me;
For while thou view’st me with thy fading light
Part of my life doth still depart with thee,
And I still onward haste to my last night:
Time’s fatal wings do ever forward fly—
So every day we live a day we die.
But O ye nights, ordain’d for barren rest,
How are my days deprived of life in you
When heavy sleep my soul hath dispossest,
By feignéd death life sweetly to renew!
Part of my life, in that, you life deny:
So every day we live, a day we die.
T. Campion