The Hour-Glass
- Consider this small dust, here in the glass,
- By atoms moved:
- Could you believe that this the body was
- Of one that loved;
- And in his mistress' flame playing like a fly,
- Was turned to cinders by her eye:
- Yes; and in death, as life unblest,
- To have 't exprest,
- Even ashes of lovers find no rest.
From: Underwoods, 1640.
- --oOo-- -