When I behold the furthest shooting star
I wonder then; if best this heart be too
and beat beyond, where time and love are far
and leaves behind the maze, some lover drew.

Then I imagine space, as void of pain
and place my racing star on course to there,
that swiftly 'rived would heal as fast that came
dispose then back; into the Venus' lair.

Tho' love if idle long, is worse to reign;
what kingdom rules a chest without a heart.
Then take from love, is too that grief shall gain,
no shooting star could render this apart.

Tho' take mine briefly where no scar is known
But have then back; to grieve in lovers' own.