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Away Delights

 AWAY, delights! go seek some other dwelling,
 For I must die.
Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling Lie after lie.
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts; Alas, for pity go And fire their hearts That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so.
Never again deluding love shall know me, For I will die; And all those griefs that think to overgrow me Shall be as I: For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry-- 'Alas, for pity stay, And let us die With thee! Men cannot mock us in the clay.
'

by John Gould Fletcher
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