If Music be the food of Love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again, it had a dying fall: O, it came ore my ear, like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of Violets: Stealing, giving Odor. Enough, no more, 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. O spirit of Love, how quick and fresh art thou, That notwithstanding thy capacity, Receiveth as the Sea. Nought enters there, O what validity, and pitch so ere, But falls into abatement, and low price Even in a minute; so full of shapes is fancy, That it alone, is high fantastical. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRST BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 11 by THOMAS CAMPION THE HOLLY TREE by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE HOUREGLASSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 45. FAREWELL TO JULIET (7) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THOMPSON'S VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY LIFE PASSES ON by MARIANNE CLARKE UPON THE DEATH OF THE MOST DESIRED MR. HERRYS (1) by RICHARD CRASHAW |