Silex Scintillans :: :: University of Virginia Library

Since dying for me, thou didst crave no more
Then common pay,
Some few true tears, and those shed for
My own ill way;
With a cheap, plain remembrance still
Of thy sad death,
Because forgetfulness would kill
Even lifes own breath:
I were most foolish and unkinde
In my own sense,
Should I not ever bear in minde
If not thy mighty love, my own defense.
Therefore, those loose delights and lusts, which here
Men call good chear,
I will close girt and tyed
For mourning sack-cloth wear, all mortified.

Not but that mourners too, can have
Rich weeds and shrouds;
For some wore White ev'n in thy grave,
And Joy, like sight, shines oft in clouds:
But thou, who didst mans whole life earn,
Doest so invite, and woo me still,
That to be merry I want skill,
And time to learn.
Besides, those Kerchiefs sometimes shed
To make me brave,
I cannot finde, but where thy head
Was once laid for me in thy grave.
Thy grave! To which my thoughts shal move
Like Bees in storms unto their Hive,
That from the murd'ring worlds false love
Thy death may keep my soul alive.