My poem of the day

In Time of Pestilence

Adieu, farewell earth's bliss,

This world uncertain is:

Fond are life's lustful joys

Death proves them all but toys,

None from his dart can fly:

I am sick, I must die.

Lord, have mercy on us!



Rich men, trust not in wealth,

Gold cannot buy your health;

Physic himself must fade;

All things to end are made;

The plague full swift goes by;

I am sick, I must die.

Lord, have mercy on us!



Beauty is but a flower

Which wrinkles will devour;

Brightness falls from the air,

Queens have died young and fair,

Dust hath clos'd Helen's eye:

I am sick, I must die.

Lord, have mercy on us!



Strength stoops unto the grave,

Worms feed on Hector brave,

Swords may not fight with fate,

Earth still holds ope her gate;

Come, come, the bells do cry.

I am sick, I must die.

Lord, have mercy on us!



Wit with his wantonness

Tasteth death's bitterness:

Hell's executioner

Hath no ears for to hear

What vain art can reply:

I am sick, I must die.

Lord, have mercy on us!



Haste, therefore, each degree

To welcome destiny;

Heaven is our heritage,

Earth but a player's stage;

Mount we unto the sky.

I am sick, I must die.

Lord, have mercy on us!

By Thomas Nashe

I apologize for the gloominess of my poems. It is just happening that way.