Once more I take my leave. And once for all,
50Our parting shows so like a funeral,
It strikes my soul, which hath most right to be
Chief Mourner at this sad solemnity.
And think not, Dearest, 'cause this parting knell
Is rung in verses, that at Your farewell
I only mourn in poetry and ink:
No, my pen's melancholy plummets sink
So low, they dive where th' hid affections sit,
Blotting that paper where my mirth was writ.