XXXI. Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, Their images I lov'd I view in thee, XXXII. If thou survive my well contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought! To march in ranks of better equipage : But since he died, and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love." XXXIII. Full many a glorious morning have I seen Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth ; Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth. XXXIV. Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak, To him that bears the strong offence's cross. And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds. XXXV. No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done : And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence : That I an accessory needs must be To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. |