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,
All three stanzas end with this refrain, a device known as  epistrophe . This is the essence of the poet’s message. The  oxymoron , a contradiction in terms, is rhythmic and hypnotic, gaining significance with each repetition
Tichbornes Elegy