Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG, by ROBERT JONES (1616-)

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First Line: The sea hath many thousand sands
Last Line: Proves care's confessor at the last.
Subject(s): Sea; Ocean

The sea hath many thousand sands,
The sky hath motes as many;
The sky is full of stars, and love
As full of woes as any:
Believe me, that do know the elf,
And make no trial by thyself.
It is in truth a pretty toy
For babes to play withal;
But O the honies of our youth
Are oft our age's gall!
Self-proof in time will make thee know
He was a prophet told thee so:
A prophet that, Cassandra-like,
Tells truth without belief;
For headstrong youth will run his race,
Although his goal be grief:
Love's martyr, when his heat is past,
Proves Care's confessor at the last.

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