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Idea 69: DIE, die, my soul, and never taste of joy
DIE, die, my soul, and never taste of joy,
If sighs nor tears nor vows nor prayers can move,
If faith and zeal be but esteemed a toy,
And kindness be unkindness in my love.
Then with unkindness, Love, revenge thy wrong,
O sweet'st revenge that e'er the heavens gave !
And with the swan record thy dying song,
And praise her still to thy untimely grave.
So in love's death shall love's perfection prove,
That love divine which I have borne to you,
By doom concealèd to heavens above,
That yet the world unworthy never knew,
Whose pure idea never tongue exprest :
I feel, you know, the heavens can tell, the rest.

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