Like To A Silver Bow

Once I wrote her name upon the sand,

but came a wave and washed it away

Again I wrote it with a second hand

but came a tide, made my plans prey

Who so list to think, I know where is a sign

I am of them but furthest come behind

Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind

draw from my thoughts, but as they flee

ashore, fainting I follow, I leave off

therefore, since in a net I seek to hold

the wind

The sweet season, that bud and bloom

forth brings

The summer has come, for every spray

now springs

With green had clad with hill and ehe

the vale

The nightingale with feathers new

the sings

"Vain man", she said, "that dost in vain

assay, a mortal name so to immortalize,

for I myself shall like to this decay

and ehe my name be wiped out likewise"