Though I am young and cannot tell
Either what death or love is well,
Yet I have heard they both bear darts,
And both do aim at human hearts:
And then again, I have been told,
Love wounds with heat, as death with cold;
So that I fear they do but bring
Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.

As in a ruin we it call
One thing to be blown up or fall;
Or to our end, like way may have
By flash of lightning, or a wave:
So love's inflamed shaft or brand
May kill as soon as death's cold hand,
Except love's fires the virtue have
To fright the frost out of the grave.