Avidity for Bidding Mourning

As unvirtuous men pass loudly away,
And scream for their souls to go,
Whilst some of their mad friends plead,
“Breath, go now,” and some yell, “Now!”

So you squawk and squeal, your horrid noise
Of tears, and laughs, and sighs, to move
Me to profanation in your joys,
But you bewitch me not to your common love.

Moving across earth from your harms and fears,
Men reckon what they did, meaningless.
But trepidation in your broken peers
Would far better be for the innocence.

Below the moon, and you, your lover
(Whose mind is senseless) cannot admit
Trickery, because the devil doth remove
Itself, before the victim renders it.

But you, whose soul needs so much refining
Just so a sufferer could know what it is,
In the assuredness of our minds,
Are cared of less than a pox we miss.

Your two souls therefore, which are truly one,
Must go to those who endure not yet
The breach, the expanding pain
You into their cold, airless chests beat.

If they be two, they are too slow,
As stiff twin compasses are joined.
Thy soul, the unfixed twist of ego,
Moves, the other dragged behind.

And though it tries to center sit,
Yet your soul far doth roam.
It reeks, curses, yells, and spits,
And grows to wreck a home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who tries
Like a beaten dog to quickly run.
Thy repulsiveness makes me fly,
Before you’ve yet begun.

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If you are not an English Lit fiend: Wikipedia.

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