University of Virginia Library

To Ioy.

Unconstant as a smile, uncertain as
beauty, or life, or a reflecting Glass.
Shorter than the dayes glory, that brings on
a tedious winters night t'exact upon
The virtue of our Patience; Or the tears
of Widdows which but serve to drown their fears.
Oh had I not acquainted been with thee,
I'd been insensible of misery,
And comforted my self in my first State,
with th' thought that all men suffer'd the like Fate.
Better 't had been still to have liv'd in Woe,
than once thy happinesse and sweets to know:
He that ne'r tasted of Delicious fare,
thinks his own Cates the best and primest ware;
His Water is his Wine, which he doth drink
with greater Pleasure from the fountains brink,
Than ev'r the Epicurean Roman found,
when in variety he did abound.
Such unto whom Nature denies a sight
can make no difference betwixt dark and light,
But to have known the day, and suddenly,
by some sad accident deprived be
Of th' Vertue of th' splendour, he inward finds
a greater Torture than whom Nature blinds.
So had'st thou not apted my Heart for thee,
I had not found how great thy want would be.
Unkind in thy departure, th' amorous Wind
though swift in course, doth leave a Sweet behind
On its lov'd Flowrs, but thou in taking leave
giv'st us a kiss, as meaning to deceive,
Yielding us up into the hands of Grief,
whence there is scarce redemption or relief.
Yet while th'art with us, thou do'st act thy part
with such delightfull and reviving Art,
That dead Hearts are stir'd up to life by thee,
but violent things do seldome last we see:
Thou art but here to day, and gone to morrow,
the Scene is past, now enter Tyrant Sorrow.