A Valediction: Of Weeping

Let me pour forth
My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,
For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear,
And by this mintage they are something worth,
For thus they be Pregnant of thee;
Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more,
When a tear falls, that thou fall’st which it bore,
So thou and I are nothing then,
When on a divers shore.
On a round ball
A workman that hath copies by, can lay
An Europe, Afric, and an Asia,
And quickly make that, which was nothing, all.
So doth each tear,
Which thee doth wear,
A globe, yea world by that impression grow,
Till thy tears mix’d with mine do overflow
This world, by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolved so.
O more than moon,
Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere;
Weep me not dead, in thine arms, but forebear
To teach the sea, what it may do too soon;
Let not the wind
Examples find,
To do me more harm, than it purposeth;
Since thou and I sigh one another’s breath,
Whoe’er sighs most, is cruellest, and hastes the other’s death.