POOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth-- <br />My sinful earth these rebel powers array-- <br />Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, <br />Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? <br />Why so large cost, having so short a lease, <br />Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? <br />Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, <br />Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? <br />Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, <br />And let that pine to aggravate thy store; <br />Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; <br />Within be fed, without be rich no more: <br /> So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men; <br /> And Death once dead, there 's no more dying then.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-xx/
