A Valediction: Of My Name, in the Window
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Y name engraved hereinDoth contribute my firmness to this glass,Which ever since that charm hath beenAs hard, as that which graved it was;Thine eye will give it price enough, to mockThe diamonds of either rock. II. 'Tis much that glass should beAs all-confessing, and through-shine as I;'Tis more that it shows thee to thee,And clear reflects thee to thine eye.But all such rules love's magic can undo;Here you see me, and I am you. III. As no one point, nor dash,Which are but accessories to this name,The showers and tempests can outwashSo shall all times find me the same;You this entireness better may fulfill,Who have the pattern with you still. IV. Or if too hard and deepThis learning be, for a scratch'd name to teach,It as a given death's head keep,Lovers' mortality to preach;Or think this ragged bony name to beMy ruinous anatomy. V. Then, as all my souls beEmparadised in you—in whom aloneI understand, and grow, and see—The rafters of my body, bone,Being still with you, the muscle, sinew, and veinWhich tile this house, will come again. VI. Till my return repairAnd recompact my scatter'd body so,As all the virtuous powers which areFix'd in the stars are said to flowInto such characters as gravèd beWhen these stars have supremacy. VII. So since this name was cut,When love and grief their exaltation had,No door 'gainst this name's influence shut.As much more loving, as more sad,'Twill make thee; and thou shouldst, till I return,Since I die daily, daily mourn. VIII. When thy inconsiderate handFlings open this casement, with my trembling name,To look on one, whose wit or landNew battery to thy heart may frame,Then think this name alive, and that thou thusIn it offend'st my Genius. IX. And when thy melted maid,Corrupted by thy lover's gold and page,His letter at thy pillow hath laid,Disputed it, and tamed thy rage,And thou begin'st to thaw towards him, for this,May my name step in, and hide his. X. And if this treason goTo an overt act and that thou write again,In superscribing, this name flowInto thy fancy from the pane;So, in forgetting thou rememb'rest right,And unaware to me shalt write. XI. But glass and lines must beNo means our firm substantial love to keep;Near death inflicts this lethargy,And this I murmur in my sleep;Inpute this idle talk, to that I go,For dying men talk often so.
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