"The sea hath many thousand sand"
di anonimo

The sea hath many thousand sands, The sun hath motes as many; The sky is full of stars, and Love As full of woes as any: Believe me, that do know the elf, And make no trial by thyself!
It is in truth a pretty toy For babes to play withal: But O, the honies of our youth Are oft our age's gall: Self-proof in time will make thee know He was a prophet told thee so:
A prophet that, Cassandra-like, Tells truth without belief; For headstrong Youth will run his race, Although his goal be grief: - Love's Martyr, when his heat is past, Proves Care's Confessor at the last.