To Ellinda, That Lately I Have Not Written
Poem by Richard Lovelace
If in me anger, or disdaine
In you, or both, made me refraine
From th' noble intercourse of verse,
That only vertuous thoughts rehearse;
Then, chaste Ellinda, might you feare
The sacred vowes that I did sweare.
But if alone some pious thought
Me to an inward sadnesse brought,
Thinking to breath your soule too welle,
My tongue was charmed with that spell;
And left it (since there was no roome
To voyce your worth enough) strooke dumbe.
So then this silence doth reveal
No thought of negligence, but zeal:
For, as in adoration,
This is love's true devotion;
Children and fools the words repeat,
But anch'rites pray in tears and sweat.
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