My Prime Of Youth Is But A Frost Of Cares,
My Feast Of Joy Is But A Dish Of Pain,
My Crop Of Corn Is But A Field Tares,
And All My Good Is But Vain Hope Of Gain
The Day Is Past, And Yet I Saw No Sun,
And Now I Live, And Now My Life Is Done

My Tale Was Heard And Yet It Was Not Told
My Fruit Is Fallen And Yet My Leaves Are Green,
My Youth Is Spent And Yet I Am Not Old,
I Saw The World And Yet I Was Not Seen
My Thread Is Cut And Yet It Is Not Spun,
And Now I Live, And Now My Life Is Done

I Sought My Death And Found It In My Womb,
I Looked For Life And Saw It Was A Shade,
I Trod The Earth And Knew It Was My Tomb,
And Now I Die, And Now I Was But Made
My Glass Is Full, And Now My Glass Is Run
And Now I Live, And Now My Life Is Done