They say that shadowes of deceased ghosts
Doe haunt the houses and the graves about
Of such whose lives-lamp went untimely out,
Delighting still in their forsaken hostes,
So, in the place where cruell love doth shoote
The fatall shaft that slew my loves delight,
I stalke and walke and wander day and night,
Even like a ghost with unperceived foote.
But those light ghosts are happer far than I,
For, at their pleasure, they can come and goe
Unto the place that hides their treasure, so,
And see the same with their fantastick eye.
Where I (alas) dare not approach the cruell
Proud Monument, that doth inclose my Jewell.
Joshua Sylvester, Sonnet 16 from Posthumi (Works, 1641).