III. The flaming torch, a shadow of the light

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

THE FLAMING torch, a shadow of the light,

Put out by hasty hand, doth colour change;

And black becomes, which seemed before most bright:

Nor so to show is any marvel strange.

So was I long a lively fire of Love;

The heat whereof my body oft did prove:

But I, at last, by one who moaned my woe,

Extinguished was, by pitiful Disdain.

Then if my colour black in face do show,

You need not much to wonder at the same;

Since ’tis a sign, by part to know the whole,

That Love made me a fire, Disdain a coal.