1. The night grew gray and the day, too, grew old,
My head spins from their constant round and roll.

2. They gnaw our flesh and blood and soul outright,
Though we watch helpless as they take their toll.

3. Of death's two messengers, gray hair came first,
One followed close, the other was dispersed.

4. On whom the first descends in early years,
Receives the second messenger diverse.