TO THE LOVERS THAT COME AFTER US

Lovers, a little of this your happy time

Give to the thought of us who were as you,

That we, whose dearest passion in your prime

Is but a winter garment, may renew

Our love in yours, our flesh in your desire,

Our tenderness in your discovering kiss,

For we are half the fuel of your fire,

As ours was fed by Marc and Beatrice.

Remember us, and, when you too are dead,

Our prayer with yours shall fall upon love’ s spring

That all our ghostly loves be comforted

In those yet later lover’ s love-making;

So shall oblivion bring his dust to spill

On brain and limbs, and we be lovers still.