The morning shadows wear away, Love is a growing, or full constant light, And his first minute, after noon, is night. THE GOOD-MORROW I WONDER, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? were we not wean'd till then? But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly? Or slumber'd we in the Seven Sleepers' den? 'T was so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be; If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 't was but a dream of thee. And now good-morrow to our waking souls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let maps to others worlds on worlds have shown ; My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, If our two loves be one, both thou and I Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die. LOVE'S GROWTH I SCARCE believe my love to be so pure Because it doth endure Vicissitude and season, as the grass. Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore But if this medicine, love, which cures all sorrow Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do. And yet no greater, but more eminent, Love by the spring is grown ; As in the firmament Stars by the sun are not enlarged, but shown, If, as in water stirr'd more circles be Produced by one, love such additions take, Those like so many spheres but one heaven make, For they are all concentric unto thee; And though each spring do add to love new heat, New taxes, and remit them not in peace, No winter shall abate this spring's increase. THE ANNIVERSARY ALL kings, and all their favourites, All glory of honours, beauties, wits, When thou and I first one another saw. All other things to their destruction draw, This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday; Two graves must hide thine and my corse; (Who prince enough in one another be) Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears, Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears; But souls where nothing dwells but love (All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove This or a love increasèd there above, When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove. |