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Poem by Abraham Cowley


Thisbe's Song


Come, love, why stay'st thou? The night
Will vanish ere wee taste delight.
The moone obscures her selfe from sight,
Thou absent, whose eyes give her light.

Come quickly deare, be briefe as time,
Or we by morne shall be o'retane,
Love's Joy's thing owne as well as mine,
Spend not therefore, time in vaine. 



Abraham Cowley


Abraham Cowley's other poems:
  1. An Answer To A Copy Of Verses Sent Me To Jersey
  2. Constantia's Song
  3. The Usurpation
  4. Against Fruition
  5. Cheer Up, My Mates

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