By thy cleer Sun My love and fortune first did run ; But thou wilt never more appear Folded within my Hemisphear,
As Day tells houres.
Since both thy light and motion Like a fled Star is fall'n and gon,
And twixt me and my soules dear wish The earth now interposed is,
Which such a strange eclipse doth make As ne're was read in Almanake.
I could allow thee for a time To darken me and my sad Clime, Were it a month, a year, or ten, I would thy exile live till then; And all that space my mirth adjourn, So thou wouldst promise to return ; And putting off thy ashy shrowd At length disperse this sorrows cloud.
But woe is me! the longest date Too narrow is to calculate These empty hopes: never shall I Be so much blest as to descry
Mean time, thou hast her earth: much good May my harm do thee. Since it stood
With Heavens will I might not call Her longer mine, I give thee all My short-liv'd right and interest In her, whom living I lov'd best : With a most free and bounteous grief, I give thee what I could not keep. Be kind to her, and prethee look Thou write into thy Dooms-day book Each parcell of this Rarity
Which in thy Casket shrin'd doth ly: See that thou make thy reck'ning streight, And yield her back again by weight; For thou must audit on thy trust Each graine and atome of this dust, As thou wilt answer Him that lent, Not gave thee my dear Monument.
So close the ground, and 'bout her shade Black curtains draw, my Bride is laid.
Sleep on my Love in thy cold bed
Never to be disquieted!
My last good night! Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake:
Till age, or grief, or sickness, must Marry my body to that dust
It so much loves; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy Tomb. Stay for me there; I will not faile To meet thee in that hollow Vale. And think not much of my delay; I am already on the way,
And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree,
And ev'ry houre a step towards thee. At night when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise neerer my West Of life, almost by eight houres saile, Then when sleep breath'd his drowsie gale.
Thus from the Sun my Bottom stears, And my dayes Compass downward bears: Nor labour I to stemme the tide
Through which to Thee I swiftly glide.
"Tis true, with shame and grief I yield, Thou like the Vann first took'st the field, And gotten hast the victory In thus adventuring to dy
Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave.
But heark! My Pulse like a soft Drum Beats my approach, tells Thee I come; And slow howere my marches be,
I shall at last sit down by Thee.
The thought of this bids me go on,
And wait my dissolution
With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive
The crime) I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart,
Till we shall meet and never part.
A Contemplation upon flowers.
Braved be as little vaine,
Rave flowers, that I could gallant it like you
You come abroad, and make a harmelesse shew, And to your bedds of Earthe againe ;
You are not proud, you know your birth For your Embroiderd garments are from Earth :
You doe obey your moneths, and times, but I Would have it ever springe,
My fate would know noe winter, never dye Nor thinke of such a thing;
Oh that I could my bedd of Earth but view And Smile, and looke as Chearefully as you:
Oh teach me to see Death, and not to feare But rather to take truce;
How often have I seene you at a Beere,
And there look fresh and spruce;
You fragrant flowers then teach me that my breath Like yours may sweeten, and perfume my
On a Drop of Dew.
Ee how the Orient Dew,
Sted wom the Bosom of the Morn
Into the blowing Roses,
Yet careless of its Mansion new ;
For the clear Region where 'twas born
Round in its self incloses :
And in its little Globes Extent,
Frames as it can its native Element. How it the purple flow'r does slight, Scarce touching where it lyes, But gazing back upon the Skies, Shines with a mournful Light;
Because so long divided from the Sphear. Restless it roules and unsecure,
Trembling lest it grow impure: Till the warm Sun pitty it's Pain, And to the Skies exhale it back again. So the Soul, that Drop, that Ray
Of the clear Fountain of Eternal Day, Could it within the humane flow'r be seen,
Remembring still its former height,
Shuns the sweat leaves and blossoms green; And, recollecting its own Light,
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express The greater Heaven in an Heaven less.
In how coy a Figure wound,
Every way it turns away : So the World excluding round, Yet receiving in the Day.
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