At once, from hence, my lines and I depart, I to my soft still walks, they to my Heart; I to the Nurse, they to the child of Art; Yet as a firme house, though the Carpenter Perish, doth stand: As an Embassadour Lyes safe, how e'r his king be in danger: So, though I languish, prest with Melancholy, My verse, the strict Map of my misery, Shall live to see that, for whose want I dye. Therefore I envie them, and doe repent, That from unhappy mee, things happy'are sent; Yet as a Picture, or bare Sacrament, Accept these lines, and if in them there be Merit of love, bestow that love on mee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PHILOMELA: PHILOMELA'S ODE [THAT SHE SANG IN HER ARBOR] by ROBERT GREENE THE BABY, FR. AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND by GEORGE MACDONALD INDIFFERENCE by GEOFFREY ANKETELL STUDDERT-KENNEDY THE SONG OF THE CAMP by BAYARD TAYLOR IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 104 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 10. THE RAILWAY BOOM, 1845 by T. BAKER |