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Benjamin Jonson
1572-1637
( )


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Karolin's Song
Consider this small dust, here in the glass

 



Karolin's Song

THOUGH I am young, and cannot tell,
Either what love, or death is well,
Yet I have heard, yet both bear darts,
And both do aim at human hearts:
And then again, I have been told
Love wounds with heat, as death with cold;
So that I fear, they do but bring
Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.
 
As in a ruin, we it call
One thing to be blown up, or fall;
Or to our end, like way may have,
By a flash of lightning, or a wave:
So love's inflamed shaft, or brand,
May kill as soon as death's cold hand;
Except love's fires the virtue have
To fright the frost from out the grave.

Consider this small dust, here in the glass,
By atoms movd:
Could you believe that this the body was
Of one that lovd;
And in his mistress flame playing like a fly,
Was turned to cinders by her eye:
Yes; and in death, as life unblest,
To have t exprest,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.


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