The Dissolution

⁠SHE's dead; and all which die
⁠To their first elements resolve;
And we were mutual elements to us,
⁠And made of one another.
⁠My body then doth hers involve,
And those things whereof I consist hereby
In me abundant grow, and burdenous,
⁠And nourish not, but smother.
⁠My fire of passion, sighs of air,
Water of tears, and earthly sad despair,
⁠Which my materials be,
But near worn out by love's security,
She, to my loss, doth by her death repair.
And I might live long wretched so,
But that my fire doth with my fuel grow.
⁠Now, as those active kings
⁠Whose foreign conquest treasure brings,
Receive more, and spend more, and soonest break,
This —which I am amazed that I can speak—
⁠This death, hath with my store
⁠My use increased.
And so my soul, more earnestly released,
Will outstrip hers; as bullets flown before
A latter bullet may o'ertake, the powder being more.