Last Lines of Ben Jonson
And all these, through her eyes, have stopt her ears.And despairs day, but for thy volume's light.And raising Charles his chariot 'bove his wain.As what he loves may never like too much.But for their powers, accept my piety.For good men but see death, the wicked taste it.For I will dare none: Good Lord, walk dead still.Had sowed these fruits, and got the harvest in.Heaven vows to keep him.Not of itself, but thee.Oh so white! Oh so soft! Oh so sweet is she!Styled but the shadows of us men?Than that it lived at all. Farewell!The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men.The liberty, that we'll enjoy to-night.Time shall throw a dart at thee.To make a new, and hang that by.To make any guilty by drinking good wine.To our times returned, hath made her heaven in thee.Under His cross.What I, in her, am grieved to want.Which cover lightly, gentle earth!