Sweet prince, the name of Death was never terrible <br />To him that knew to live; nor the loud torrent <br />Of all afflictions, singing as they swim, <br />A gall of heart, but to a guilty conscience: <br />Whilst we stand fair, though by a two-edged storm <br />We find untimely falls, like early roses, <br />Bent to the earth, we bear our native sweetness. <br />When we are little children, <br />And cry and fret for every toy comes 'cross us, <br />How sweetly do we shew, when sleep steals on us! <br />When we grow great, but our affection greater, <br />And struggle with this stubborn twin, born with us <br />And tug and pull, yet still we find a giant: <br />Had we not then the privilege to sleep <br />Our everlasting sleep, he would make us idiots. <br />The memory and monuments of good men <br />Are more than lives; and though their tombs want tongues <br />Yet have they eyes that daily sweat their losses, <br />And such a tear from stone no time can value. <br />To die both young and good are Nature's curses, <br />As the world says; ask Truth, they are bounteous blessings; <br />For then we reach at heaven in our full virtues, <br />And fix ourselves new stars, crown'd with our goodness.<br /><br />Beaumont and Fletcher<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/consolation-of-early-death/
