Classic Poem

The Penitent Palmer's Ode

Whilom in the winter's rage
A palmer old and full of age
Sat and thought upon his youth,
With eyes, tears, and heart's ruth,
Being all with cares yblent,
When he thought on years mis-spent.
When his follies came to mind,
How fond love had made him blind,
And wrapped him in a field of woes,
Shadowed with pleasure's shows,
Then he sighed and said: ‘Alas!
Man is sin, and flesh is grass.
I thought my mistress' hairs were gold,
And in her locks my heart I fold;
Her amber tresses were the sight
That wrapped me in vain delight;
Her ivory front, her pretty chin,
Were stales that drew me on to sin;
Her starry looks, her crystal eyes,
Brighter than the sun's arise,
Sparkling pleasing flames of fire,
Yoked my thoughts and my desire,
That I 'gan cry ere I blin,
O! her eyes are paths to sin.
Her face was fair, her breath was sweet,
All her looks for love was meet:
But love is folly, this I know,
And beauty fadeth like to snow.
O! why should man delight in pride,
Whose blossom like a dew doth glide?
When these supposes touched my thought,
That world was vain, and beauty nought,
I 'gan sigh and say, alas!
Man is sin, and flesh is grass.’English