62
COWLEY'S POEMS.
Than thou canst be, when thou dost miss;
Men leave thee by obtaining, and straight flee
Some other way again to thee;
And that's a pleasant country, without doubt,
To which all soon return that travel out.
Men leave thee by obtaining, and straight flee
Some other way again to thee;
And that's a pleasant country, without doubt,
To which all soon return that travel out.
LOVE'S INGRATITUDE.
I Little thought, thou fond ingrateful sin!
When first I let thee in,
And gave thee but a part
In my unwary heart,
That thou wouldst e'er have grown
So false or strong to make it all thine own.
When first I let thee in,
And gave thee but a part
In my unwary heart,
That thou wouldst e'er have grown
So false or strong to make it all thine own.
At mine own breast with care I fed thee still,
Letting thee suck thy fill;
And daintily I nourish'd thee
With idle thoughts and poetry!
What ill returns dost thou allow!—
I fed thee then, and thou dost starve me now.
Letting thee suck thy fill;
And daintily I nourish'd thee
With idle thoughts and poetry!
What ill returns dost thou allow!—
I fed thee then, and thou dost starve me now.
There was a time when thou wast cold and chill,
Nor hadst the power of doing ill;
Into my bosom did I take
This frozen and benumbed snake,
Not fearing from it any harm;
But now it stings that breast which made it warm.
Nor hadst the power of doing ill;
Into my bosom did I take
This frozen and benumbed snake,
Not fearing from it any harm;
But now it stings that breast which made it warm.
