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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=37484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Elegy V: His Picture</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=37484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Here take my Picture, though I bid farewell;<br>Thine, in my heart, where my ſoule dwels, ſhall dwell.<br>'Tis like me now, but I dead, 'twill be more<br>When wee are ſhadowes both, then 'twas before.<br>When weather-beaten I come backe; my hand,<br>Perhaps with rude oares torne, or Sun beams tann'd,<br>My face and breſt of hairecloth, and my head<br>With cares raſh ſodaine ſtormes, being o'rſpread,<br>My body'a ſack of bones, broken within,<br>And powders blow ſtaines ſcatter'd on my skimme;<br>If rivall fooles taxe thee to'have lov'd a man,<br>So foule, and courſe, as, Oh, I may ſeeme than,<br>This ſhall ſay what I was: and thou ſhalt ſay,<br>Doe his hurts reach mee? doth my worth decay?<br>Or doe they reach his judging minde, that hee<br>Should now love leffe, what hee did love to ſee?<br>That which in him was faire and delicate,<br>Was but the milke, which in loves childiſh ſtate<br>Did nurſe it: who now is growne ſtrong enough<br>To feed on that, which to diſus'd tafts ſeemes tough.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=John+Donne">John Donne</a></strong></div>