The Canonization

×

Error message

  • Notice: Undefined index: und in eval() (line 2 of /home/poemlake/public_html/sites/all/modules/views/plugins/views_plugin_argument_default_php.inc(66) : eval()'d code).
  • Notice: Trying to access array offset on value of type null in eval() (line 2 of /home/poemlake/public_html/sites/all/modules/views/plugins/views_plugin_argument_default_php.inc(66) : eval()'d code).
  • Notice: Trying to access array offset on value of type null in eval() (line 2 of /home/poemlake/public_html/sites/all/modules/views/plugins/views_plugin_argument_default_php.inc(66) : eval()'d code).

FOR God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love;
⁠Or chide my palsy, or my gout;
⁠My five gray hairs, or ruin'd fortune flout;
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve;
⁠Take you a course, get you a place,
⁠Observe his Honour, or his Grace;
Or the king's real, or his stamp'd face
⁠Contemplate; what you will, approve,
⁠So you will let me love.

Alas! alas! who's injured by my love?
⁠What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd?
⁠Who says my tears have overflow'd his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
⁠When did the heats which my veins fill
⁠Add one more to the plaguy bill?
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
⁠Litigious men, which quarrels move,
⁠Though she and I do love.

Call's what you will, we are made such by love;
⁠Call her one, me another fly,
⁠We're tapers too, and at our own cost die,
And we in us find th' eagle and the dove.
⁠The phoenix riddle hath more wit
⁠By us; we two being one, are it;
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
⁠We die and rise the same, and prove
⁠Mysterious by this love.

We can die by it, if not live by love,
⁠And if unfit for tomb or hearse
⁠Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
⁠We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
⁠As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
⁠And by these hymns, all shall approve
⁠Us canonized for love;

And thus invoke us, "You, whom reverend love
⁠Made one another's hermitage;
⁠You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove
⁠Into the glasses of your eyes;
⁠So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitomize—
⁠Countries, towns, courts beg from above
⁠A pattern of your love."

Collection: