Henry King (poet)

“Jean Klene (ed.) The Southwell-Sibthorpe Commonplace Book: Folger MS. V.b.198 (Tempe, AZ: Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies, 1997), p. 30”

“Prodigious might that union prove,Where Night and Day together move,And the conjunction of our lipsNot kisses make but an eclipse;In which the mixed black and whitePortends more terrour than delight.”

“We that did nothing study but the wayTo love each other, with which thoughts the dayRose with delight to us, and with them set,Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.”

“But hark! My pulse, like a soft drumBeats my approach, tells thee I come;And, slow howe’er my marches be,I shall at last sit down by thee.The thought of this bids me go on,And wait my dissolutionWith hope and comfort. Dear! (forgiveThe crime) I am content to liveDivided, with but half a heart,Till we shall meet and never part.”

“Sleep on (my Love!) in thy cold bedNever to be disquieted.My last Good-night! Thou wilt not wakeTill I thy fate shall overtake:Till age, or grief, or sickness mustMarry my body to that dustIt so much loves; and fill the roomMy heart keeps empty in thy tomb.Stay for me there: I will not failTo meet thee in that hollow vale.And think not much of my delay;I am already on the way,And follow thee with all the speedDesire can make, or sorrows breed.”