Once I wrote her name upon the sand,
but came a way and washed it away
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
but came a tide, made my plans prey

Who so list to think, I know where is a sign
I am of them that furthest come behind

Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind
draw from my thought, but as they flee
ashore, fainting I follow, I leave off
therefore, since in a net I seek to hold the wind

The sweet seasons, that bud and bloom forth brings
The summer has come, for every spray now springs
With green had clad the hill and here the vale
The nightingale with feathers new she sings

"Vain man", she said, "that dost in vain
assay, a mortal name so to immortalize,
for I myself shall like to this decay
and here my name be wiped out likewise"