Song.
SWeetest love, I do not goe,
For wearinesse of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter Love for mee,
But since that I
Must dye at last, 'tis best,
To use my selfe in jest
Thus by fain'd deaths to dye;
Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death
About this Item
- Title
- Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death
- Author
- Donne, John, 1572-1631.
- Publication
- London :: Printed by M[iles] F[lesher] for Iohn Marriot, and are to be sold at his shop in St Dunstans Church-yard in Fleet-street,
- 1633.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Cite this Item
-
"Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69225.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 17, 2024.
Pages
Page 207
Yesternight the Sunne went hence,
And yet is here to day,
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor halfe so short a way:
Then feare not mee,
But beleeve that I shall make
Speedier journeyes, since I take
More wings and spurres then hee.
O how feeble is mans power,
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot adde another houre,
Nor a lost houre recall?
But come bad chance,
And wee joyne to'it our strength,
And wee teach it art and length,
It selfe o'r us to'advance.
When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not winde,
But sigh'st my soule away,
When thou weep'st, unkindly kinde,
My lifes blood doth decay.
It cannot bee
That thou lov'st mee, as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
Thou art the best of mee.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethinke me any ill,
Destiny may take thy part,
Page 208
And may thy feares fulfill,
But thinke that wee
Are but turn'd aside to sleepe;
They who one another keepe
Alive, ne'r parted bee.