Thomas Campion

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.

Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly; to every day we live, a day we die.

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.

Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show; We may our ends by our beginnings know.

You teach your daughters the diameters of the planets and wonder when you are done that they do not delight in your company.