|
Of protestings, |
And break both |
Word and oath, |
Keep it still 'tis none of mine. |
|
Yet send me back my heart and eyes, |
That I may know, and see thy lies, |
And may laugh and joy, when thou |
Art in anguish |
And dost languish |
For some one |
That will none, |
Or prove as false as thou dost now. |
|
A Nocturnal upon S. Lucies day |
|
being the shortest day. |
|
'Tis the years midnight, and it is the dayes, |
Lucies, who scarce seven hours her self unmasks, |
The Sun is spent, and now his flasks, |
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes; |
The worlds whole sap is sunk: |
The general balm th' hydroptique earth hath drunk, |
Whither, as to the beds-feet life is shrunk, |
Dead and enterr'd; yet all these seem to laugh, |
Compar'd with me, who am their Epitaph. |
|
Study me then, you who shall lovers be |
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring: |
For I am a very dead thing, |
In whom love wrought new Alchymy.
|
[CW: For] |