Beauty is but a flower,
That wrinkles will devour.
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died, young and fair.
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord have mercy on us.
Thomas Nashe, A Litany in Time of Plague
Beauty is but a flower,
That wrinkles will devour.
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died, young and fair.
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord have mercy on us.
Thomas Nashe, A Litany in Time of Plague