Representative Poetry Online

Poems

1Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.

3And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,

4That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

5Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

6And when we meet at any time again,

7Be it not seen in either of our brows

8That we one jot of former love retain.

9Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,

10When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;

11When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

12And Innocence is closing up his eyes--

13Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

14From death to life thou might'st him yet recover!

2] you get no more of me: echoes Chaucer, Squire's Tale, 343, "ye gete namoore of me." Back to Line