I. <br /> <br />In mine one monument I lye, <br />And in my self am buried; <br />Sure, the quick lightning of her eye <br />Melted my soul ith' scabberd dead; <br />And now like some pale ghost I walk, <br />And with another's spirit talk. <br /> <br />II. <br /> <br />Nor can her beams a heat convey, <br />That may my frozen bosome warm, <br />Unless her smiles have pow'r, as they, <br />That a cross charm can countercharm. <br />But this is such a pleasing pain, <br />I'm loth to be alive again.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-mine-one-monument-i-lye/
