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 vain hope of gain. 
The day is gone and I yet I saw no sun, 
And now I live, and now my life is done. 

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 was not spun, 
And now I live, and now my life is done. 

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.