My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but a vain hope of gain.
The day is gone and I yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is gone.
The spring is past, and yet it hath not [bad word] 
The [bad word] is dead, and yet the leaves are green,
My youth is gone, and yet I am but young,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seen,
My thread is cut, and yet it's hardly spun,
And now I live, and now my life is gone.
I sought my death and found it in my womb,
I look't for life and saw it was a shade,
I trode the earth and knew it was my tomb,
And now I die, and now I am but made.
The glass is full, and now the glass [bad word] 
And now I live, and now my life is done.