Richard Lovelace

(1618-1657 / London / England)

In Mine One Monument I Lye - Poem by Richard Lovelace


In mine one monument I lye,
And in my self am buried;
Sure, the quick lightning of her eye
Melted my soul ith' scabberd dead;
And now like some pale ghost I walk,
And with another's spirit talk.


Nor can her beams a heat convey,
That may my frozen bosome warm,
Unless her smiles have pow'r, as they,
That a cross charm can countercharm.
But this is such a pleasing pain,
I'm loth to be alive again.

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Read poems about / on: pain, smile

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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