Classic Poem

E'en as the flowers do wither
That maidens fair do gather,
So doth their beauty blazing,
Whereon there is such gazing.

As day is dimmed with the night,
So age doth vade the red and white,
And death consumes e'en in an hour
The virgin's weed, that dainty flower.

And unto them it may be told,
Who clothe most rich in silk and gold,
Ye dames, for all your pride and mirth,
Your beauty shall be turned to earth.