Poem of the week: An Epitaph on the Death of Nicholas Grimald by Barnabe Googe

‘Death, our foe, consumeth all to nought.’ Photograph: BuckleyPics/Getty Images/iStockphoto

An Epitaph on the Death of Nicholas Grimald

Behold this fleeting world, how all things fade,

How every thing doth pass and wear away;

Each state of life, by common course and trade,

Abides no time, but hath a passing day.

For look, as life, that pleasant dame, hath brought

The pleasant years and days of lustiness,

So Death, our foe, consumeth all to nought;

Envying thief, with dart doth us oppress.