Life of my life, take not so soone Thy flight, But stay the time till we have bade Good night. Thou hast both Wind and Tide with thee; Thy way As soone dispatcht is by the Night, as Day. Let us not then so rudely henceforth goe Till we have wept, kist, sigh't, shook hands, or so. There's paine in part-ing; and a kind of hell, When once true-lovers take their last Fare-well. What? shall we two our endlesse leaves take here With-out a sad looke, or a solemne teare? He knowes not Love, that hath not this truth proved, Love is most loth to leave the thing beloved. Pay we our Vowes, and goe; yet when we part Then, even then, I will bequeath my heart In-to thy loving hands: For Ile keep none To warme my Breast, when thou my Pulse art gone. No, here Ile last, and walk (a harm-less shade) A-bout this Urne, where-in thy Dust is laid, To guard it so, as nothing here shall be Heavy, to hurt those sacred seeds of thee.
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Researcher for this text: David Arditti
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 179