Though I am Young, and Cannot Tell

Though I am young, and cannot tell
    Either what Death or Love is well,
Yet I have heard they both bear darts,
    And both do aim at humane hearts.
And then again, I have been told,
    Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold;
So that I fear they do but bring
    Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.

As in a ruin we it call
    One thing to be blown up, or fall;
Or to our end, like way may have,
    By a flash of lightning, or a wave;
So Love's inflamed shaft or brand,
    May kill as soon as Death's cold hand;
Except Love's fires the virtue have
    To fright the frost out of the grave.