1Tell me no more her hair was lovely brown,
2Nor that it did in
curious curls hang down,
3Or that it did her snowy shoulders
Cynthia in a sable cloud.
5Tell me no more of her black diamond eyes,
6Whose cheerful look made all my sorrows fly,
Phoebus’ influence and light
northern winter’s half-year’s night.
9Tell me no more her cheeks excelled the rose
10Though lily leaves did sweetly interpose,
Aurora rising from her bed,
12Her snowy hand shading her
13Tell me no more of her white even nose,
14Nor that her ruby lips when they
15Did so revive this drooping heart of mine,
golden apples on a silver shrine.
17Tell me no more, her breasts were heaps of snow
18White as the swans where crystal
Thames doth flow;
Diana was her virgin breast.
20Her noble mind can never be expressed.
21This but the
casket was of her rich soul,
22Which now doth shine above the highest
23Tell me no more of her perfection,
24Because it doth increase my heart’s dejection;
25Nor tell me that she passed her happy days
heavenly and the muses’ lays,
27Nor like the swans on crystal
28She sung her
dirges ere she hence did go.
29Nor never more tell my sad soul of mirth:
30With her I lost most of my joys on earth,
31Nor can I ever raise my drooping spirit
32Until with her those joys I shall inherit,
33Those glories which our finite thoughts transcend,
34Where we shall praises sing, world without end,
Him that made both her and me of earth
36And gave us spirits of celestial birth.
37Tell me no more of her unblemished
38Which doth immortalize her virgin name
39Like fragrant odors, aromatic fumes,
40Which all succeeding ages
41Nor why I mourn for her, ask me no more.
42For all my life I shall her loss
43Till infinite power her dust and mine shall raise
44To sing in heaven His everlasting praise.