Fear no more the heat of the sun

Fear no more the heat of the sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages Your worldly tasks now are done, Gone home, and taken yer wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown of the great; Yer now past the tyrant’s stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; For you the reed is as the oak: All power, all learning, all bodies must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Yer finished with joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Wash out to sea, and come to dust.