And therefore am I glad, that when my heart
To thy enquiring tenderness is hushed,
And thine endearments from mine eyes depart,
’Twill be enough for thee that life hath gushed,
Gently to loose the silver cord, and die,
And with me in my place of slumber lie.
SONNET.
I care not that the world, when I am dead,
Remember me; I care not that they come
To see the place where I shall lay my head,