 | Poems, By J. D. [i.e. John Donne] |  |
[[The Paradox.]]
No Lover saith, I love, nor any otherCan judge a perfect Lover;
Hee thinkes that else none can or will agree,
That any loves but hee:
I cannot say I lov'd, for who can say
Hee was kill'd yesterday.
Love with excesse of heat, more yong then old,
Death kills with too much cold;
Wee dye but once, and who lov'd last did die,
Hee that saith twice, doth lye:
For though hee seeme to move, and stirre a while,
It doth the sense beguile.
303
When the lifes light is set,
Or like the heat, which, fire in solid matter
Leaves behinde, two houres after.
Once I love and dyed; and am now become
Mine Epitaph and Tombe.
Here dead men speake their last, and so do I;
Love-slaine, loe, here I dye.
| Poems, By J. D. [i.e. John Donne] | |