The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!

Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!

He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.

Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!

The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!

By Fate full many a heart has been undone, And many a sprightly rose made woe-begone; Plume thee not on thy lusty youth and strength: Full many a bud is blasted ere its bloom.

Indeed the Idols I have loved so long, have done my credit in this World much wrong; have drowned my Glory in a shallow Cup, and sold my Reputation for a Song.