Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.
Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade, And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.
Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new.
Poets that lasting marble seek Must come in Latin or in Greek.
To love is to believe, to hope, to know; Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!
The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er; So calm are we when passions are no more!
How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!