My deare, take in good parte this fortune badde since of the good, no man is alwayes sure And att the worste this one thinge may the gladd that in one staye Shee cannott longe endure The skillfull pilate trustes nott calmed skies hee sees fayre dayes with clowdes sone overcaste And good ytt is that stormes sometymes doo ryse therby to Joye when Jeobardyes are paste False fortunes smyles, the wiseste eyes doo blynde butt by her checks, the symple lerne skill Her frowarde thawarts doo try the constant mynd wheras her baites allure our harts to yll By her disgrace wee trye our frind and foe And which is more, our selves wee learne to know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE [WHILE ON A VISIT TO UPPER INDIA] by REGINALD HEBER THE EVE OF ST. AGNES by JOHN KEATS WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THREE PASTORAL ELEGIES: TO THE READER (2) by WILLIAM BASSE DESPISED AND REJECTED by KATHARINE LEE BATES BOOKS ET VERITAS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE PEOPLE by TOMASSO CAMPANELLA A LOVER, ON AN ACCIDENT NECESSITATING DEPARTURE, CONSULTS WITH REASON by THOMAS CAREW |