Behold a silly tender babe, In freezing winter night, In homely manger trembling lies; Alas! a piteous sight. - Robert Southwell

Before my face the picture hangs,
That daily should put me in mind
Of those cold names and bitter pangs,
That shortly I am like to find:
But yet, alas! full little I
Do think hereon that I must die.

When Fortune smiles, I smile to think
How quickly she will frown.

Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights,
A brief wherein all marvels summèd lie,
Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store,
Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more.