Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life."

Once more the engine of her thoughts began:

Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime
Rot and consume themselves in little time.

"But when her lips were ready for his pay,
He winks, and turns his lips another way."

"Narcissus so himself himself forsook,
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook."