But At My Back I Always Hear

But At My Back I Always Hear Time's Winged Chariot Hurrying Near; And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity. Thy Beauty Shall No More Be Found, Nor, In Thy Marble Vault, Shall Sound My Echoing Song; Then Worms Shall Try That Long Preserv'd Virginity, And Your Quaint Honour Turn To Dust, And Into Ashes All My Lust. The Grave's A Fine And Private Place, But None I Think Do There Embrace.

Had We But World Enough, And Time, This Coyness, Lady, Were No Crime.

Among The Blind The One-eyed Blinkard Reigns

Casting The Body's Vest Aside, My Soul Into The Boughs Does Glide.

My Vegetable Love Should Grow Vaster Than Empires, And More Slow.