If Music be the food of Love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again, it had a dying fall: O, it came ore my ear, like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of Violets: Stealing, giving Odor. Enough, no more, 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. O spirit of Love, how quick and fresh art thou, That notwithstanding thy capacity, Receiveth as the Sea. Nought enters there, O what validity, and pitch so ere, But falls into abatement, and low price Even in a minute; so full of shapes is fancy, That it alone, is high fantastical. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO JOHN BROWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO BE LIKED BY YOU WOULD BE A CALAMITY by MARIANNE MOORE HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 5 by EZRA POUND ENGLAND (2) by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE GREEN AISLES by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TANAGER by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |