Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan;

Sorrow calls no time that ’s gone;

Violets plucked the sweetest rain

Makes not fresh nor grow again;

Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;

Fate’s hid ends eyes cannot see;

Joys as winged dreams fly fast,

Why should sadness longer last?

Grief is but a wound to woe;

Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.