Summer's Last Will and Testament

The children have struck back and insisted that, if they're having to learn poems, then I have to learn poems as well, so here is the one for Saturday 21st Feb:

Adieu, farewell, earth's bliss,
This world uncertain is,
Fond are life's lustful joys,
Death proves them all but toys,
None from his darts can fly,
I am sick, I must die,
Lord, have mercy on us.

Rich men, trust not in wealth,
Gold cannot buy you health,
Physic himself must face,
All things to end are made,
The plague full swift goes by,
I am sick, I must die,
Lord, have mercy on us.

Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkles will devour,
Brightness falls from the air,
Queens have died young and fair,
Dust hath closed Helen's eye,
I am sick, I must die,
Lord, have mercy on us.

Strength stoops unto the grave,
Worms feed on Hector brave,
Swords may not fight with fate,
Earth still holds ope her gate,
Come, come, the bells do cry,
I am sick, I must die,
Lord, have mercy on us.

Wit with his wantonness
Tasteth death's bitterness,
Hell's executioner
Has no ears for the hear
What vain art can reply,
I am sick, I must die,
Lord, have mercy on us.

Haste, therefore, each degree
To welcome destiny;
Heaven is our heritage,
Earth but a player's stage,
Mount we unto the sky,
I am sick, I must die,
Lord, have mercy on us.

Thomas Nashe

That's a humdinger. Spent most of yesterday in the garden, muttering: "The yungle is fornicating" to myself, so not much else to report.