|
| For though he seeme to move, and stirre a while, |
| It doth the sense beguile. |
| Such life is like the light which bideth yet |
| When the lifes light is set, |
| Or like the heat, which, fire in solid matter |
| Leaves behinde, two houres after. |
| Once I love and dyed; and am now become |
| Mine Epitaph and Tombe. |
| Here dead men speake their last, and so doe I; |
| Love-slaine, loe, here I die. |
|
[Transcriptions are not provided for noncanonical poems,
elegies on Donne by other authors, or prose compositions.] |