Elegie V - His Picture

Here take my Picture; though I bid farewell 
Thine, in my heart, where my soule dwels, shall dwell. 
'Tis like me now, but I dead, 'twill be more 
When wee are shadowes both, than'twas before. 
When weather-beaten I come backe, my hand 
Perhaps with rude oares torne, or Sun beams tann'd, 
My face and brest of hairecloth, and my head 
With care's rash sodaine storms being o'rspread,   
My body'a sack of bones, broken within, 
And powder's blue staines scatter'd on my skinne; 
If rivall fooles taxe thee to'have lov'd a man 
So foule, and course as, Oh, I may seeme then, 
This shall say what I was: and thou shalt say, 
Doe his hurts reach mee? doth my worth decay? 
Or doe they reach his judging minde, that hee
Should now love lesse, what hee did love to see? 
That which in him was faire and delicate, 
Was but the milke, which in love's childish state 
Did nurse it: who now is growne strong enough 
To feed on that, which to disus'd tasts seems tough.