Poem by Edmund Waller

* * *

While I listen to thy voice,
Chloris, I feel my life decay;
That powerful noise
Calls my flitting soul away.
Oh! suppress that magic sound,
Which destroys without a wound.

Peace, Chloris, peace! or singing die,
That together you and I
To heaven may go;
For all we know
Of what the blessed do above
Is, that they sing and that they love. 

1. The Self Banished
2. Of My Lady Isabella Playing on the Lute
3. To a Lady Singing a Song of His Composing
4. At Penshurst
5. To One Married to an Old Man

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