A Farewell. 
By Sidney, Sir Philip.

Oft I have mused, but now at length I find,
Why those that die, men sty they do depart.
'Depart!' - a word so gentle, to my mind,
Weakly did seem to paint death's ugly dart.
But now the stars, with their strange course, do bind
Me one to leave, with whom I leave my heart;
I hear a cry of spirits faint and blind,
That, parting thus, my chiefest part I part.
Part of my life, the loathèd part to me,
Lives to impart my weary clay some breath;
But that good part, wherein all comforts be,
Now dead, doth show departure is a death -
Yea, worse than death; death parts both woe and joy.
From joy I part, still living in annoy.