Letters to her Husband. 395
So many Heps, head from the heart to fever
If but a neck, foon flioiild we be together:
I like the earth this feafon, mourn in black,
My Sun is gone fo far in's Zodiack,
Whom whilfl; I joy'd, nor florms, nor frotls I felt,
His warmth fuch fric{id colds did caufe to melt.
My chilled limbs now nummed lye forlorn;
Return, return fweet Sol from Capricorn ;
In this dead time, alas, what can I more [241]
Then view thofe fruits which through thy heat I bore?
Which fweet contentment yield me for a fpace,
True livinor Pictures of their Fathers face.
ftrange effe6l! now thou art SoutJnuard gone,
1 weary grow, the tedious day fo long;
But when thou NortJnvard to me flialt return, I wifh my Sun may never fet, but burn Within the Cancer of m}- glowing breaft, The welcome houfe of him my deareft gueft. Where ever, ever ftay, and go not thence, Till natures fad decree fhall call thee hence; Flelh of thy flefli, bone of thy bone, I here, thou there, yet both but one.
A. B.
Another.
Ph<xbus make hafhe, the day's too long, be gone. The filent night's the fitteft time for moan; But ftay this once, unto my fuit give ear. And tell my griefs in either Hemifphere:
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