To Mrs. M. A. upon Absence. Set by Mr. Hen. Lawes.

TIs now since I began to die
Four Moneths and more; yet gasping live
Wrapp'd up in sorrow do I lie,
Hoping, yet doubting, a Reptieve.
Adam from Paradise expell'd
Just such a wretched being held.

'Tis not thy Love I fear to lose,
That will in spight of absence hold;
But 'tis the benefit and use
Is lost as in imprison'd Gold:
Which, though the Sum be ne're so great,
Enriches nothing but conceit.

What angry Star then governs me
That I must feel a double smart,
Prisoner to fate as well as thee;
Kept from thy face, link'd to thy heart?
Because my Love all love excells,
Must my Grief have no Parallels?

Sapless and dead as Winter here
I now remain, and all I see
Copies of my wild state appear,
But I am their Epitome.
Love me no more, for I am grown
Too dead and dull for thee to own.