Unfortunately, the end of this one is not equal to the beginning.
CHANGE SHOULD BREED CHANGE.
New doth the sun appear; The mountains' snows decay; Crowned with frail flowers comes forth the baby year.
My soul, time posts away; And thou yet in that frost, Which flower and fruit hath lost, As if all here immortal were, dost stay! For shame! thy powers awake; Look to that heaven which never night makes black; And there, at that immortal sun's bright rays, Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days..