How ill doth he deserve a Lovers name, Whose pale weak flame Cannot retain His heat in spight of absence or disdain; But doth at once, like paper set on fire, Burn and expire; True love can never change his seat, Nor did he ever love, that could retreat. That noble flame, which my brest keeps alive, Shall still survive, When my soule 's fled; Nor shall my love dye, when my bodye 's dead, That shall wait on me to the lower shade, And never fade: My very ashes in their urn, Shall, like a hallowed Lamp, for ever burn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ARCHIMEDES LAST FORAY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE WHITE PEACOCK by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SPRING NOTES FROM ROBIN HILL by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE BIRTH OF VENUS by HAYDEN CARRUTH I LOOKED FOR LIFE AND DID A SHADOW SEE by JAMES GALVIN THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL |