Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/171

 Not the darkling stream, the sundering Stygian ford, Not the hour that smites and severs as a sword, Not the night subduing light that perisheth, Smite, subdue, divide from us by doom abhorred, Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death.

Prince of song more sweet than honey, lyric lord, Not thy France here only mourns a light adored, One whose love-lit fame the world inheriteth. Strangers too, now brethren, hail with heart's accord Life so sweet as this that dies and casts off death.