How nicely I trim my hair in the glass,
And see an old face with the sunken eyes,
But always I mourn over my memory loss,
Dim with the riper thoughts death signifies.
Where is my youth but staying with me?
With changed dress playing hide and seek,
Hiding her being appears in different ways,
To deceive the poor wit what a time freak
When I was young my thoughts were green,
Now I am old and my thoughts are riper,
Many a shades of life my eyes have seen,
For coming generation my verses woe riper
Years ripen blue thoughts as the sun fruit,
Thus my pretty words world wisdom shoot