PASSING away, saith the World, passing away: Chances, beauty and youth sapp'd day by day: Thy life never continueth in one stay. Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to gray That hath won neither laurel nor bay? I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May: Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay On my bosom for aye. Then I answer'd: Yea.

Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away: With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play, Hearken what the past doth witness and say: Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array, A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay. At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day, Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay: Watch thou and pray. Then I answer'd: Yea.

Passing away, saith my God, passing away: Winter passeth after the long delay: New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray, Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May. Though I tarry, wait for me, trust me, watch and pray. Arise, come away; night is past, and lo, it is day; My love, my sister, my spouse, thou shalt hear me say— Then I answer'd: Yea.