Maxioms by Edmund Spenser
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
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One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tyde and made my paynes his prey.
And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
Yet was he but a squire of low degree.
Yet was he but a squire of low degree.
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
Although the last, not least.
Although the last, not least.
