O heart ! as the Times make you melancholy,
Suddenly your pure spirit will leave your body,
Sit upon the grass, & drink pleasantly so many cups
Ere the grass shall grow from your clay.


P 133

O heart, since the time still chagrinful doth make thee,
And the soul will ere long altogether forsake thee,
Ere the green from thine ashes spring up, on the greensward
A day or two sit and to pleasance betake thee. 

Th 447

O Sweetheart, since the world doth sadden thee,
And from thy body soon the soul will flee.
Ere verdure from thine ashes springeth up,
These few days on the green rest cheerfully.

Joomla templates by a4joomla