DRY THOSE EYES.
Dry those fair, those crystal eyes,
Which like growing fountains rise
To drown their banks! Grief's sullen brooks
Would better flow in furrow'd looks:
Thy lovely face was never meant
To be the shore of discontent.
Then clear those waterish stars again,
Which else portend a lasting rain;
Lest the clouds which settle there
Prolong my winter all the year,
And thy example others make
In love with sorrow, for thy sake.
Dr. Henry King.
LOVE'S CONSTANCY.
Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again;
Sweet, if you shrink, I'll never think of love;
Fair, if you fail, I'll judge all beauty vain;
Wise, if too weak, more wits I'll never prove.
Dear, sweet, fair, wise,—change, shrink, nor be not weak;
And, on my faith, my faith shall never break.