The Frailty And Hurtfulness Of Beauty

Brittle beauty, that nature made so frail,
  Whereof the gift is small, and short the season;
  Flow'ring today, tomorrow apt to fail,
  Tickle treasure, abhorrèd of reason;
  Dangerous to deal with, vain, of none avail,
  Costly in keeping, past not worth two peason;
  Slipper in sliding, as is an eelës tail,
  Hard to obtain, once gotten, not geason;
  Jewel of jeopardy that peril doth assail,
  False and untrue, enticèd oft to treason,
  Enemy to youth; that most may I bewail.
  Ah, bitter sweet, infecting as the poison,
  Thou farest as fruit that with the frost is taken,
  Today ready ripe, tomorrow all to-shaken.