In mine one monument I lye,
And in my self am buried;
Sure, the quick lightning of her eye
Melted my soul ith' scabberd dead;
And now like some pale ghost I walk,
And with another's spirit talk.
Nor can her beams a heat convey,
That may my frozen bosome warm,
Unless her smiles have pow'r, as they,
That a cross charm can countercharm.
But this is such a pleasing pain,
I'm loth to be alive again.
Song (in Mine One Monument I Lye)
Richard Lovelace
(1)
Poem topics: pain, walk, soul, spirit, frozen, ghost, warm, talk, charm, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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