Once I wrote her name upon the sand,
   but came a wave 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 but furthest come behind
   Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind
   draw from my thoughts, but as they flee
   ashore, fainting I follow, I leave off
   therefore, since in a net I seek to hold
   the wind
   The sweet season, that bud and bloom
   forth brings
   The summer has come, for every spray
   now springs
   With green had clad with hill and ehe
   the vale
   The nightingale with feathers new
   the 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 ehe my name be wiped out likewise"