FALSEHOOD
by: William Cartwright
(1611-1643)
- TILL do
the stars impart their light
- To those that travel in the night;
- Still time runs on, nor doth the hand
- Or shadow on the dial stand;
- The streams still glide and constant are
- Only thy mind
- Untrue I find,
- Which carelessly
- Neglects to be
- Like stream or shadow, hand or star.
-
- Fool that I am! I do recall
- My words, and swear thou'rt like them all,
- Thou seem'st like stars to nourish fire,
- But O how cold is thy desire!
- And like the hand upon the brass
- Thou point'st at me
- In mockery;
- If I come nigh
- Shade-like thou'lt fly,
- And as the stream with murmur pass.
MORE POEMS BY WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT |
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