The sea hath many thousand sands, br The sun hath motes as many; br The sky is full of stars, and Love br As full of woes as any: br Believe me, that do know the elf, br And make no trial by thyself! br br It is in truth a pretty toy br For babes to play withal: br But O, the honies of our youth br Are oft our age's gall: br Self-proof in time will make thee know br He was a prophet told thee so: br br A prophet that, Cassandra-like, br Tells truth without belief; br For headstrong Youth will run his race, br Although his goal be grief: - br Love's Martyr, when his heat is past, br Proves Care's Confessor at the last.