THE lopped tree in time may grow again, <br /> Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; <br />The sorriest wight may find release of pain, <br /> The driest soil suck in some moistening shower. <br /> Times go by turns, and chances change by course, <br /> From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. <br /> <br />The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, <br /> She draws her favours to the lowest ebb. <br />Her tides hath equal times to come and go, <br /> Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web. <br /> No joy so great but runneth to an end, <br /> No hap so hard but may in fine amend. <br /> <br />Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring, <br /> No endless night, yet not eternal day; <br />The saddest birds a season find to sing, <br /> The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. <br /> Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all, <br /> That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. <br /> <br />A chance may win that by mischance was lost; <br /> The net, that holds no great, takes little fish; <br />In some things all, in all things none are crossed; <br /> Few all they need, but none have all they wish. <br /> Unmeddled joys here to no man befall; <br /> Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all.<br /><br />Robert Southwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/times-go-by-terms/
