Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/24

 Leaves love last year smelt now feel dead love's tears melt—flies caught in time's mesh! Salt are the dews in which new time breeds new sin, brews blood and stews flesh; Next year may see dead more germs than this weeded and reared them afresh.

Old times left perish, there's new time to cherish; life just shifts its tune; As, when the day dies, earth, half afraid, eyes the growth of the moon; Love me and save me, take me or waive me; death takes one so soon!