Come, cheerful day, part of my life, to me; For while thou view'st me with thy fading light, Part of my life doth still depart with thee, And I still onward haste to my last night. Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly, So every day we live a day we die. But oh, ye nights, ordained for barren rest, How are my days deprived of life in you; When heavy sleep my soul hath dispossessed By feigned death life sweetly to renew! Part of my life in that you life deny; So every day we live a day we die. |