William Habington (1605–1654)

WHY should we fear to melt away in death?

May we but die together. When beneath,

In a cool vault we sleep, the world will prove

Religious, and call it the shrine of Love.

There, when o’ th’ wedding eve some beauteous maid,

Suspicious of the faith of man, hath paid

The tribute of her vows; o’ th’ sudden she

Two violets sprouting from the tomb will see:

And cry out, ‘Ye sweet emblems of their zeal

Who live below, sprang ye up to reveal

The story of our future joys, how we,

The faithful patterns of their love shall be?

If not, hang down your heads opprest with dew,

And I will weep and wither hence with you.’