Richard Lovelace

To Ellinda, That Lately I Have Not Written

I.
If in me anger, or disdaine
In you, or both, made me refraine
From th’ noble intercourse of verse,
That only vertuous thoughts rehearse;
 Then, chaste Ellinda, might you feare
 The sacred vowes that I did sweare.
 
                   II.
But if alone some pious thought
Me to an inward sadnesse brought,
Thinking to breath your soule too welle,
My tongue was charmed with that spell;
 And left it (since there was no roome
 To voyce your worth enough) strooke dumbe.
 
                   III.
So then this silence doth reveal
No thought of negligence, but zeal:
For, as in adoration,
This is love’s true devotion;
 Children and fools the words repeat,
 But anch’rites pray in tears and sweat.
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