Death, thou shalt die.

“Away thou fondling motley humorist, Leave mee, and in this standing woodden che…”

“Yet nothing can to nothing fall,Nor any place be empty quite;Therefore I think …”

“BUSY old fool, unruly Sun, Why dost thou thus,Through windows, and through curt…”

“No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face…”