Oh, no more, no more, too late
Sighs are spent; the burning tapers
Of a life as chaste as fate,
Pure as are unwritten papers,
Are burned out; no heat, no light
Now remains; tis ever night.
Love is dead; let lovers eyes,
Locked in endless dreams,
Th extremes of all extremes,
Ope no more, for now Love dies.
Now Love dies---implying
Loves martyrs must be ever, ever dying.
