Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so when thou art gone, That thee I shall not celebrate When I remember, thou wast one. But yet thou canst not die, I know, To leave this world behind, is death; But when thou from this world wilt go, The whole world vapours with thy breath. Or if, when thou, the world's soul, go'st, It stay, 'tis but thy carcase then, The fairest woman, but thy ghost, But corrupt worms, the worthiest men. Oh wrangling schools, that search what fire Shall burn this world, had none the wit Unto this knowledge to aspire, That this her fever might be it? And yet she cannot waste by this, Nor long bear this torturing wrong, For much corruption needful is To fuel such a fever long. These burning fits but meteors be, Whose matter in thee is soon spent. Thy beauty, and all parts, which are thee, Are unchangeable firmament. Yet 'twas of my mind, seizing thee, Though in it thee cannot persever. For I had rather owner be Of thee one hour, than all else ever. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY [DECEMBER 16, 1773] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES RAIN ON THE ROOF (1) by COATES KINNEY CREPUSCULE DU MATIN; SONNET by AMY LOWELL ARMS AND THE BOY by WILFRED OWEN SONNET: 36 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE MANSONG: CHORAL by MARCUS ADENEY |