by William Drummond
Love which is here a care
That wit and will doth mar,
Uncertain truce and a most certain war,
A shrill tempestuous wind
Which doth disturb the mind,
And like wild waves our designs all commove -
Among those sprites above
Which see their Maker's face,
It a contentment is, a quiet peace,
A pleasure void of grief, a constant rest,
Eternal joy, which nothing can molest.
Last updated January 14, 2019