Alexandrian Sonnet -31 Poem by Alexandrian Ink

Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
So far from variation or new invention;
Why not with changing time have a new ride?
Of new-found methods and trading fashion.
O know, Mr. Death, I always write of you
Keeping every word and you my argument
So all my venture is dressing old words new
Spending again that which is already spent1;
Because you are heavenly and hell's gate
Respectively, for the saints and the reprobates,
Bringing men to their due lot and their fate;
By you some live twice, and some die twice.
Then until men stop dying, my verse will always hold
Because it is like the sun daily new and old.