|
| Yet nothing can to nothing fall, |
| Nor any place be empty quite, |
| Therefore I thinke my breast hath all |
| Those peeces still, though they be not unite; |
| And now as broken glasses show |
| A hundred lesser faces, so |
| My ragges of heart can like, wish, and adore, |
| But after one such love, can love no more. |
|
|
| A Valediction forbidding mourning. |
|
| As virtuous men passe mildly away, |
| And whisper to their soules, to goe, |
| Whilst some of their sad friends doe say, |
| The breath goes now, and some say, no. |
|
| So let us melt, and make no noise, |
| No teare-floods, nor sigh-tempests* move, |
| T'were prophanation of our joyes |
| To tell the layetie our love. |
|
| Moving of th'earth brings harmes and feares, |
| Men reckon what it did and meant, |
| But trepidation of the spheares, |
| Though greater farre, is innocent.
|
[CW: Dull] |