The Frailty And Hurtfulness Of Beauty

Brittle beauty, that nature made so frail,

    Whereof the gift is small, and short the season;

    Flow'ring today, tomorrow apt to fail,

    Tickle treasure, abhorrèd of reason;

    Dangerous to deal with, vain, of none avail,

    Costly in keeping, past not worth two peason;

    Slipper in sliding, as is an eelës tail,

    Hard to obtain, once gotten, not geason;

    Jewel of jeopardy that peril doth assail,

  False and untrue, enticèd oft to treason,

  Enemy to youth; that most may I bewail.

  Ah, bitter sweet, infecting as the poison,

      Thou farest as fruit that with the frost is taken,

      Today ready ripe, tomorrow all to-shaken.