I LEAVE them, now the trumpet calls away; <br />In vain thine eyes beg for some times reprieving; <br />Yet in my children here immortall stay: <br />In one I die, in many ones am living: <br />In them, and for them stay thy too much grieving: <br />Look but on them, in them thou still wilt see <br />Marry'd with thee again thy twice-two Antonie. <br /> <br />And when with little hands they stroke thy face, <br />As in thy lap they sit (ah carelesse) playing, <br />And stammering ask a kisse, give them a brace; <br />The last from me : and then a little staying, <br />And in their face some part of me survaying, <br />In them give me a third, and with a teare <br />Show thy deare love to him, who lov'd thee ever deare.<br /><br />Phineas Fletcher<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dying-husband-s-farewell/
