SONNET
Reading edition
That Death shall take and slay me matters not In truth: for better men are buried under, And—tut, “what can’t be cured must be endured”! But I am wild with hate, pray devil’s thunder May fall on Death though heaven itself glow hot, Hell-like, and stars be lighted stubble, and worlds Like birds drop blinded by the bloody light! O, such a bonfire do I wish for Death Or ever his insolent envy of sweet breath Should touch and soil the body of delight— The singing flame of fragrant holy fire Which showed to me the meaning of the spring And every lovely tune musicians bring Out of the womb of innermost desire!