So beautiful roses may never die,
But as time goes by,
His gentle heir may remember him:
But you shrink to your bright eyes,
Light your flame with rich fuel,
Create famine in rich places,
Yourself, your enemy, is too cruel to your sweet self:
You are the fresh ornament of the world now,
And the only messenger of gaudy spring,
Buried in your own bud is your content,
Gentle villain, wasting in meanness:
Pity the world, or this greedy man,
In the name of you and the grave, eat what the world deserves.