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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448963" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Mistress</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">An age in her embraces passed<br>Would seem a winter's day;<br>When life and light, with envious haste,<br>Are torn and snatched away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, oh! how slowly minutes roll.<br>When absent from her eyes<br>That feed my love, which is my soul,<br>It languishes and dies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For then no more a soul but shade<br>It mournfully does move<br>And haunts my breast, by absence made<br>The living tomb of love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You wiser men despise me not,<br>Whose love-sick fancy raves<br>On shades of souls and Heaven knows what;<br>Short ages live in graves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whene'er those woundng eyes, so full<br>Of sweetness, you did see,<br>Had you not been profoundly dull,<br>You had gone mad like me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor censure us, you who perceive<br>My best beloved and me<br>Sign and lament, complain and grieve;<br>You think we disagree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, 'tis sacred jealousy,<br>Love raised to an extreme;<br>The only proof 'twixt her and me,<br>We love, and do not dream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fantastic fancies fondly move<br>And in frail joys believe,<br>Taking false pleasure for true love;<br>But pain can ne'er deceive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Kind jealous doubts, tormenting fears,<br>And anxious cares when past,<br>Prove our heart's treasure fixed and dear,<br>And make us blessed at last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lord+John+Wilmot">Lord John Wilmot</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448963" data-title="The Mistress de Lord John Wilmot" data-description="An age in her embraces passed
Would seem a winter's day;
When life and light, with envious haste,
Are torn and snatched away.

But, oh! how slowly minutes roll.
When absent from her eyes
That feed my love, which is my soul,
It languishes and dies...."></div>
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