Metaphysical Cutup

It is not that I love you less When first my lines of heavenly Joyes made mention through regions farr divided see with what simplicity see! With what constant motion Philosophers have measured mountains Man, dreame no more of curious mysteries Oh wearisome condition of humanity ! Oh might Nothing ! Unto thee O Joyes ! Infinite sweetness! With what flowers Must I then see, with what busie heart Heare mee, O God! Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with teares Busie old fool , unruly sunne Absent from thee I languish still O sweet and bitter monuments of paine Out upon it , I have lov'd Sweet day , so cool , so calm , so bright where do these voices stray like to the falling of a starre Poet and Saint ! To thee alone are given A ward , and still in bonds, one day All my past life is mine no more How vainly men themselves amaze dazel'd thus with height of place Here lies wise and valiant dust.