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,
The final dramatic statement, the refrain that ends all three stanzas, brings the poem to an end. Martyrdom, triumph, life and death are conflated. The final word ‘done’ has an appropriate downward pitch when spoken aloud. The dramatic climax is resolved and seems to end with resignation.
Tichbornes Elegy