A Lover's Meditation on his Lady
The lonely thoughts that issue from my mind,
Fill this small room with shadows of the world,
Where the unstable state of all mankind
Before reflection's eye is strangely hurled.
O foolish man! to reckon on a joy —
Thy trust is founded in uncertainty,
Our hopes do make us fools, a cherished toy
Show us but children still — and but for Thee
This life were valueless. Thou art a gem
Set on the wrinkled forehead of wide death,
Whose glad diffusive splendour must condemn
All thought that undervalues human breath.
Indebted unto fortune least of all,
Yet having Thee, still rich, though fortunes thrall.
Fill this small room with shadows of the world,
Where the unstable state of all mankind
Before reflection's eye is strangely hurled.
O foolish man! to reckon on a joy —
Thy trust is founded in uncertainty,
Our hopes do make us fools, a cherished toy
Show us but children still — and but for Thee
This life were valueless. Thou art a gem
Set on the wrinkled forehead of wide death,
Whose glad diffusive splendour must condemn
All thought that undervalues human breath.
Indebted unto fortune least of all,
Yet having Thee, still rich, though fortunes thrall.
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