Poem by Edmund Waller

* * *

While I listen to thy voice,
Chloris, I feel my life decay;
That powerful noise
Calls my flitting soul away.
Oh! suppress that magic sound,
Which destroys without a wound.

Peace, Chloris, peace! or singing die,
That together you and I
To heaven may go;
For all we know
Of what the blessed do above
Is, that they sing and that they love. 

1. The Self Banished
2. To a Lady Singing a Song of His Composing
3. Of My Lady Isabella Playing on the Lute
4. To One Married to an Old Man
5. At Penshurst

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