Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's.
My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die.
Let not thy divining heart Forethink me any ill; Destiny may take thy part, And may thy fears fulfill.
Good is not good, unless A thousand it possess, But doth waste with greediness.
For I am every dead thing In whom love wrought new alchemy For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations, and lean emptiness He ruined me, and I am re-begot Of absence, darkness, death; things which are not.