Not Where I Breathe, but Where I Love, I Live

 I Dye Alive
by St. Robert Southwell

O life! what letts thee from a quicke decease?
 O death! what drawes thee from a present praye?
 My feast is done, my soule would be at ease,
 My grace is saide; O death! come take awaye. 

 I live, but such a life as ever dyes;
 I dye, but such a death as never endes;
My death to end my dying life denyes,
 And life my living death no whitt amends. 

 Thus still I dye, yet still I do revive;
 My living death by dying life is fedd;
Grace more then nature kepes my hart alive,
 Whose idle hopes and vayne desires are deade. 

 Not where I breath, but where I love, I live;
 Not where I love, but where I am, I dye;
 The life I wish, must future glory give,
 The deaths I feele in present daungers lye.