Charles Hubert Hastings Parry - The sea hath many a thousand sands - ноты, текст песни (слова)

The sea hath many thousand sands,
 The sun hath motes as many;
 The sky is full of stars, and Love
 As full of woes as any;
 Believe me, that do know the elf,
 And make no trial by thyself.
 
 It is in truth a pretty toy
 For babes to play withal;
 But O, the honies of our youth
 Are oft our age's gall:
 Self-proof in time will make thee know
 He was a prophet told you so.
 
 A prophet that, Cassandra-like,
 Tells truth without belief;
 For head strong Youth will run his race,
 Although his goal be grief,
 Love's martyr, when his heat is past,
 Proves Care's confessor at the last.