In A College Garden

Senex. Saye, cushat, callynge from the brake,
  What ayles thee soe to pyne?
  Thy carefulle heart shall cease to ake
  When dayes be fyne
  And greene thynges twyne:
  Saye, cushat, what thy griefe to myne?
 Turtur. Naye, gossyp, loyterynge soe late,
  What ayles thee thus to chyde?
  My love is fled by garden-gate;
  Since Lammas-tyde
  I wayte my bryde.
  Saye, gossyp, whom dost thou abyde?
  Senex. Loe! I am he, the 'Lonelie Manne,'
  Of Time forgotten quite,
  That no remembered face may scanne—
  Sadde eremyte,
  I wayte tonyghte
  Pale Death, nor any other wyghte.
  O cushat, cushat, callynge lowe,
  Goe waken Time from sleepe:
  Goe whysper in his ear, that soe
  His besom sweepe
  Me to that heape
  Where all my recollections keepe.
  Hath he forgott? Or did I viewe
  A ghostlye companye
  This even, by the dismalle yewe,
  Of faces three
  That beckoned mee
  To land where no repynynges bee?
  O Harrye, Harrye, Tom and Dicke,
  Each lost companion!
  Why loyter I among the quicke,
  When ye are gonne?
  Shalle I alone
  Delayinge crye 'Anon, Anon'?
  Naye, let the spyder have my gowne,
  To brayde therein her veste.
  My cappe shal serve, now I 'goe downe,'
  For mouse's neste.
  Loe! this is best.
  I care not, soe I gayne my reste.