For Sir Henry Lee

1. His golden locks Time hath to silver turned.
O Time too swift O swiftness never ceasing
His youth `gainst Time and Age hath ever spurned
But spurned in vain; youth waneth by increasing.
Beauty strength youth are flowers but fading seen;
Duty faith love are roots and ever green.

2. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees
And lovers` sonnets turn to holy psalms.
A man at arms must now serve on his knees
And feed on prayers which are Age`s alms.
But though from Court to cottage he depart
His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart.

3. And when he saddest sits in homely cell
He`ll teach his swains this carol for a song
Blest be the hearts that wish my Sov`reign well.
Curst be the soul that think her [him] any wrong.
Goddess [Ye gods] allow this aged man his right
To be your beadsman now that was your knight.