How ill doth he deserve a lover's name,
Whose pale weak flame
His heat, in spite of absence or disdain;
But doth at once, like paper set on fire,
Burn and expire;
True love can never change his seat,
Nor did her ever love, that could retreat.
That noble flame which my breast keeps alive
Shall still survive
When my soul's fled;
Nor shall my love die when my body's dead,
That shall wait on me to the lower shade,
And never fade;
My very ashes in their urn
Shall, like a hallow'd lamp, forever burn.
More verses by Thomas Carew
- To A. L. Persuasions To Love.
- Song: Mediocrity In Love Rejected
- Song: Perswasions To Enjoy
- Epitaph On The Late Mary Villiers
- Know, Celia, Since Thou Art So Proud