If I could ever write a lasting verse, <br />It should be laid, deare Sainte, upon thy herse. <br />But Sorrow is no muse, and doth confesse <br />That it least can what most it would expresse. <br />Yet, that I may some bounds to griefe allow, <br />I'le try if I can weepe in numbers now. <br />Ah beauteous blossom! too untimely dead! <br />Whither, ah whither is thy sweetness fled? <br />Where are the charmes that allwayes did arise <br />From the prevailing languadge [sic] of thine eyes? <br />Where is thy modest aire and lovely meen, <br />And all the wonders that in these were seen? <br />Alas! in vaine! In vaine on three I rave; <br />There is no pitty in the stupid grave . . . <br />Never, ah never let glad parents guesse <br />At one remove of future happinesse, <br />But reckon children 'mong those passing joys, <br />Which one hour gives, and the next hour destroyes. <br />Alas! we were secure of our content, <br />But find too late that it was onely lent, <br />To be a mirrour wherein we might see <br />How fraile we are, how innocent should be. <br />But if to thy blest soule my griefe appeares, <br />Forgive and pitty these injurious teares; <br />Impute them to affection's sad excesse, <br />Which will not yeild to nature's tendernesse, <br />Since 'twas through dearest tyes and highest trust <br />Continu'd from thy cradle to thy dust; <br />And so rewarded and confirm'd by thine, <br />(wo is me!) I thought thee too much mine. <br />But I'le resigne, and follow thee as fast <br />As my unhappy minutes will make hast. <br />Till when, the fresh remembrances of thee <br />Shall be my emblem of mortalitie. <br />For such a loss as thine, bright soule, is not <br />Ever to be repaired, or forgot.<br /><br />Katherine Philips<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-memory-of-f-p/
