Edmund Waller Quotes

Verse thus design’d has no ill fate, If it arrive but at the date Of fading beauty, if it prove But as long-Liv as present love.

We write in sand, our language grows, And like our tide ours overflows.

But who can hope his lines shou’d long Last, in a daily changing tongue? While they are new, envy prevails, And as that dies, our language fails.

Poets may boast (as safely-vain) Their work shall with the world remain: Both bound together, live, or die, The verses and the prophecy.

Since thou wouldst needs, bewitched with some ill charms, Be buried in those monumental arms: As we can wish, is, may that earth lie light Upon thy tender limbs, and so good night.

Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retire; Bid her come forth, Suffer her self to be desire, And not blush to be admire.