Go, dumb-born book, br Tell her that sang me once that song of Lawes: br Hadst thou but song br As thou hast subjects known, br Then were there cause in thee that should condone br Even my faults that heavy upon me lie br And build her glories their longevity. br Tell her that sheds br Such treasure in the air, br Recking naught else but that her graces give br Life to the moment, br I would bid them live br As roses might, in magic amber laid, br Red overwrought with orange and all made br One substance and one colour br Braving time. br Tell her that goes br With song upon her lips br But sings not out the song, nor knows br The maker of it, some other mouth, br May be as fair as hers, br Might, in new ages, gain her worshippers, br When our two dusts with Waller's shall be laid, br Siftings on siftings in oblivion, br Till change hath broken down br All things save Beauty alone.