The last remains of Sr John Suckling Being a Full collection Of all his Poems and Letters which have been so long expected, and never till now Published, with The Licence and Approbation of his Noble and Dearest friends |
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To my Lady E. C. at her going out of England.
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 | The last remains of Sr John Suckling |  |
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To my Lady E. C. at her going out of England.
I Must confess, when I did part from you,I could not force an artificial dew
Upon my cheeks, nor with a gilded phrase
Express how many hundred several ways
My heart was tortur'd, nor with arms across
In discontented garbs set forth my loss:
Such loud expressions many times do come
From lightest hearts, great griefs are always dumb;
The shallow Rivers rore, the deep are still
Numbers of painted words may shew much skill,
But little anguish and a cloudy face
Is oft put on, to serve both time and place:
The blazing wood may to the eye seem great,
But 'tis the fire rak'd up that has the heat,
And keeps it long: True sorrow's like to wine,
That which is good does never need a signe.
My eyes were channels far too small to be
Conveyers of such floods of miserie:
And so pray think; or if you'd entertain
A thought more charitable, suppose some strain
Of sad repentance had, not long before,
Quite emptied for my sins, that watry store.
So shall you him oblige that still will be
Your servant to his best abilitie.
J. S.
| The last remains of Sr John Suckling | |