Such Is My Love, To Thee I

Then Hate Me When Thou Wilt, If Ever, Now.

No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead Than You Shall Hear The Surly Sullen Bell Give Warning To The World That I Am Fled From This Vile World With Vilest Worms To Dwell: Nay, If You Read This Line, Remember Not The Hand That Writ It, For I Love You So, That I In Your Sweet Thoughts Would Be Forgot, If Thinking On Me Then Should Make You Woe. O! If, I Say, You Look Upon This Verse When I Perhaps Compounded Am With Clay, Do Not So Much As My Poor Name Rehearse; But Let Your Love Even With My Life Decay; Lest The Wise World Should Look Into Your Moan, And Mock You With Me After I Am Gone.

Being Of No Power To Make His Wishes Good: His Promises Fly So Beyond His State That What He Speaks Is All In Debt; He Owes For Every Word.

But Miserable Most, To Love Unloved? This You Should Pity Rather Than Despise

I'll Make My Heaven In A Lady's Lap