At once, from hence, my lines and I depart, I to my soft still walks, they to my Heart; I to the Nurse, they to the child of Art; Yet as a firme house, though the Carpenter Perish, doth stand: As an Embassadour Lyes safe, how e'r his king be in danger: So, though I languish, prest with Melancholy, My verse, the strict Map of my misery, Shall live to see that, for whose want I dye. Therefore I envie them, and doe repent, That from unhappy mee, things happy'are sent; Yet as a Picture, or bare Sacrament, Accept these lines, and if in them there be Merit of love, bestow that love on mee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH IN BALLADE FORM by FRANCOIS VILLON DEATH (1) by MAXWELL BODENHEIM TO RUSSIA by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER CASSANDRA by RICHARD BARNFIELD SCHUBERT'S (UNFINISHED) SYMPHONY by FRANCES BARTLETT |