Do but consider this small dust
Here running in the glass,
By atoms moved;
Could you believe that this
The body was
Of one that loved?
And in his mistress' flame, playing like a fly,
Turned to cinders by her eye?
Yes; and in death, as life, unblessed,
To have't expressed,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.
The Hourglass
Ben Jonson
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Poem topics: believe, death, life, running, small, flame, dust, body, glass, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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