Image of her whom I love, more than she, Whose faire impression in my faithfull heart, Makes mee her @3Medall@1, and makes her love mee, As Kings do coynes, to which their stamps impart The value: goe, and take my heart from hence, Which now is growne too great and good for me: @3Honours@1 oppresse weake spirits, and our sense Strong objects dull; the more, the lesse wee see. When you are gone, and @3Reason@1 gone with you, Then @3Fantasie@1 is Queene and Soule, and all; She can present joyes meaner then you do; Convenient, and more proportionall. So, if I dreame I have you, I have you, For, all our joyes are but fantasticall. And so I scape the paine, for paine is true; And sleepe which locks up sense, doth lock out all. After a such fruition I shall wake, And, but the waking, nothing shall repent; And shall to love more thankfull Sonnets make, Then if more @3honour, teares@1, and @3paines@1 were spent. But dearest heart, and dearer image stay; Alas, true joyes at best are @3dreame@1 enough; Though you stay here you passe too fast away: For even at first lifes @3Taper@1 is a snuffe. Fill'd with her love, may I be rather grown Mad with much @3heart@1, then @3ideott@1 with none. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT WHERE THE PICNIC WAS by THOMAS HARDY THE STIRRUP-CUP by SIDNEY LANIER THE PHILOSOPHER by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY LITTLE BELL by THOMAS WESTWOOD MY NATIVE LAND by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |