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 of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain.
The day is gone and I yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
The spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung,
The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green,
My youth is gone, and yet I am but young,
Time is now blurred. His life and his death are conflated; he sees himself dead and alive at the same time. Note also the rhythmic pace of this line, with ‘live’ followed by the echoing ‘life’.
Tichbornes Elegy