- For my first twenty years, since yesterday,
- I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;
- For forty more I fed on favours past,
- And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last;
- Tears drown'd one hundred, and sighs blew out two;
- A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
- Or not divide, all being one thought of you;
- Or in a thousand more, forgot that too.
- Yet call not this long life; but think that I
- Am, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?
From: Songs and Sonnets, 1633.
- --oOo-- -