William Shakespeare

Fear No More

Fear no more the heat ‘o the sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages; Thou they worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta’en they wages: Golden lads and girls all must As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o’ the great, Thou are past the tyrant’s stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak; The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more, the lightning-flash, Nor th’ all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finished joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust. (‘Cymbeline. ’)