When last I died, and, dear, I die
As often as from thee I go
Though it be but an hour ago
—And lovers' hours be full eternity—
I can remember yet, that I
Something did say, and something did bestow;
Though I be dead, which sent me, I might be
Mine own executor, and legacy

I heard me say, "Tell her anon
That myself," that is you, not I
" Did kill me," and when I felt me die
I bid me send my heart, when I was gone;
But I alas ! could there find none;
When I had ripp'd, and search'd where hearts should lie
It kill'd me again, that I who still was true
In life, in my last will should cozen you

Yet I found something like a heart
But colours it, and corners had;
It was not good, it was not bad
It was entire to none, and few had part;
As good as could be made by art
It seem'd, and therefore for our loss be sad
I meant to send that heart instead of mine
But O ! no man could hold it, for 'twas thine