“Ah how sweet it is to love,” from Tyrannick Love

AH how sweet it is to love,

Ah how gay is young desire!

And what pleasing pains we prove

When we first approach Loves fire!

Pains of Love be sweeter far

Than all other pleasures are.

Sighs which are from Lovers blown,

Do but gently heave the Heart:

Ev’n the tears they shed alone

Cure, like trickling Balm, their smart.

Lovers when they lose their breath

Bleed away in easie death

Love and Time with reverence use,

Treat ’em like a parting friend:

Nor the golden gifts refuse

Which in youth sincere they send:

For each year their price is more,

And they less simple than before.

Love like Spring-tides full and high

Swells in ev’ry youthful vein:

But each Tide does less supply,

Till they quite shrink in again

If a flow in Age appear,

’Tis but rain, and runs not clear.