Me, me and none but me, dart home O gentle death
And quicklie, for I draw too long this idle breath:
O howe I long till I may fly to heaven above
Unto my faithfull and beloved turtle dove

Like to the silver Swanne, before my death I sing:
And yet alive my fatall knell I helpe to ring
Still I desire from earth and earthly joyes to flie
He never happie liv’d, that cannot love to diе