Fear no more the heat o'th'sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy wordly task hast done,
Home art gone and ta'en thy wages,
Golden lads and girls all must
As chimmeny-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o'th'great;
Thou art past the yrant's stroke.
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The scepter,learning,physic must
All follow this,and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor th' all dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander,censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young,all lovers must,
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
by William Shakespear