The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 2/Silence
SILENCE.
Curse on this tongue, that has my heart betray'd,
And his great secret open laid!
For, of all persons, chiefly she
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 't is a thing might dangerous grow,
Only in her to pity me:
Since ’tis for me to lose my life more fit,
Than ’tis for her to save and ransom it.
And his great secret open laid!
For, of all persons, chiefly she
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 't is a thing might dangerous grow,
Only in her to pity me:
Since ’tis for me to lose my life more fit,
Than ’tis for her to save and ransom it.
Ah! never more shall thy unwilling ear
My helpless story hear;
Discourse and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain
That in my breast does reign;
Silence perhaps may make it sleep:
I'll bind that sore up I did ill reveal;
The wound, if once it close, may chance to heal.
My helpless story hear;
Discourse and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain
That in my breast does reign;
Silence perhaps may make it sleep:
I'll bind that sore up I did ill reveal;
The wound, if once it close, may chance to heal.
No, 't will ne'er heal; my love will never die,
Though it should speechless lie.
A river, ere it meet the sea,
As well might stay its source,
As my love can his course,
Unless it join and mix with thee:
If any end or stop of it be found,
We know the flood runs still, though under ground.
Though it should speechless lie.
A river, ere it meet the sea,
As well might stay its source,
As my love can his course,
Unless it join and mix with thee:
If any end or stop of it be found,
We know the flood runs still, though under ground.