POEM: A FAREWELL

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    Oft have I mused, but now at length I find Why those that die,<u>藏书网</u> men say, they do depart: Depart:  a word so geo my mind, Weakly did seem to paihs ugly dart.

    But now the stars, with their strange course, do bind Me oo leave, with whom I leave my heart; I hear a cry of spirits faint and blind, That pa<dfn></dfn>rting thus, my chiefest part I part.

    Part of my life, the loathed part to me, Lives to impart my weary clay some breath; But that good part wh></a>erein all forts be, Now dead, doth show departure is a death:

    Yea, worse thah, death parts both woe and joy, From joy I part, still living in annoy.

    * * * Finding those beams, which I <s></s>must ever love, To mar my mind, and with my hurt to please, I deemed it best, some absence for to prove, If farther place might further me to ease.

    My eyes thence drawn, where lived all their light>9９ｌib?</a>, Blinded forthwith in dark despair did lie, Like to the mole, with want of guiding sight, Deep plunged ih, deprived of the sky.

    In absence blind, and wearied with that woe, To greater woes, by presence, I return; Even as the fly, which to the flame doth go, Pleased with the light, that his small corse doth burn:

    Fair choice I have, either to live or die A blinded mole, or else a burned fly.

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