JOHN SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE
1649-1720
417. The Reconcilement
Come, let us now resolve at last
To live and love in quiet;
We'll tie the knot so very fast
That Time shall ne'er untie it.
The truest joys they seldom prove
Who free from quarrels live:
'Tis the most tender part of love
Each other to forgive.
When least I seem'd concern'd, I took
No pleasure nor no rest;
And when I feign'd an angry look,
Alas! I loved you best.
Own but the same to me—you'll find
How blest will be our fate.
O to be happy—to be kind—
Sure never is too late!
418. On One who died discovering her Kindness
Some vex their souls with jealous pain,
While others sigh for cold disdain:
Love's various slaves we daily see—
Yet happy all compared with me!
