 | The poems of William Habington |  |
30
Vpon CASTARA'S absence.
T'is madnesse to give Physicke to the dead;Then leave me friends: Yet haply you'd here read
A lecture; but I'le not dissected be,
T' instruct your Art by my anatomie.
But still you trust your sense, sweare you discry
No difference in me. All's deceit oth' eye,
Some spirit hath a body fram'd in th' ayre,
Like mine, which he doth to delude you weare:
Else heaven by miracle makes me survive
My selfe, to keepe in me poore Love alive.
But I am dead, yet let none question where
My best part rests, and with a sigh or teare,
Prophane the Pompe, when they my corps interre,
My soule imparadis'd, for 'tis with her.
| The poems of William Habington | |