A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

129. TO DIANEME

     Dear, though to part it be a hell,
     Yet, Dianeme, now farewell!
     Thy frown last night did bid me go,
     But whither, only grief does know.
     I do beseech thee, ere we part,
     (If merciful, as fair thou art;
     Or else desir'st that maids should tell
     Thy pity by Love's chronicle)
     O, Dianeme, rather kill
     Me, than to make me languish still!
     'Tis cruelty in thee to th' height,
     Thus, thus to wound, not kill outright;
     Yet there's a way found, if thou please,
     By sudden death, to give me ease;
     And thus devised,—do thou but this,
     —Bequeath to me one parting kiss!
     So sup'rabundant joy shall be
     The executioner of me.