Chidiock Tichborne (1562–1586) died at age 24 — his bowels cut out while he was alive, before being hanged, drawn, and quartered by Queen Elizabeth’s executioners for his part in the Babington Plot to replace the Protestant Elizabeth with her cousin, the Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots. Tichborne was a minor figure in those days of high political and literary drama (although his captors did include Sir Francis Walsingham, Elizabeth’s spymaster, and the double agent Robert Poley, who would witness Christopher Marlowe’s murder in 1593). And yet, despite his youth and lack of influence, Tichborne produced one strangely powerful and memorable work while in the Tower of London awaiting trial and execution. His untitled self-elegy (sometimes given its first line as its title: “My prime of youth is but a frost of cares”) consists of three six-line pentameter stanzas, rhymed ababcc, each ending with the haunting refrain, “And now I live, and now my life is done” — as powerful a recognition of impending death as English poetry has to offer.

Tichborne’s Elegy
by Chidiock Tichborne

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, 
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, 
My crop of corn is but a field of tares, 
And all my good is but vain hope of gain. 
The day is gone and yet I saw no sun, 
And now I live, and now my life is done. 

The spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung, 
The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green, 
My youth is gone, and yet I am but young, 
I saw the world, and yet I was not seen, 
My thread is cut, and yet it was not spun, 
And now I live, and now my life is done. 

I sought my death and found it in my womb, 
I lookt for life and saw it was a shade, 
I trode the earth and knew it was my tomb, 
And now I die, and now I am but made. 
The glass is full, and now the glass is run, 
And now I live, and now my life is done.

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With “Poem of the Day,” The New York Sun offers a daily portion of verse selected by Joseph Bottum with the help of the North Carolina poet Sally Thomas, the Sun’s associate poetry editor. Tied to the day, or the season, or just individual taste, the poems will be typically drawn from the lesser-known portion of the history of English verse. In the coming months we will be reaching out to contemporary poets for examples of current, primarily formalist work, to show that poetry can still serve as a delight to the ear, an instruction to the mind, and a tonic for the soul.