Though you are young and I am old,
Though your veins hot and my blood cold,
Though youth is moist and age is dry,
Yet embers live when flames do die.
The tender graft is easily broke,
But who shall shake the sturdy oak?
You are more fresh and fair than I,
Yet stubs do live when flowers do die.
Thou, that thy youth dost vainly boast,
Know, buds are soonest nipped with frost;
Think that thy fortune still doth cry:
"Thou fool! to-morrow thou must die."
Thomas Campion (1567–1620), from A Book of Ayres, 1601