Death and birth should dwell not near together:
Wealth keeps house not, even for shame, with dearth:
Fate doth ill to link in one brief tether Death and birth.
Harsh the yoke that binds them, strange the
Seems that girds them each with each: yet
Death be best, who knows, or life on earth?
Ill the rose-red and the sable
Blend in one crown's plume, as grief with mirth:
Ill met still are warm and wintry weather, Death and birth.
