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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO CYNTHIA; A SONG, by THOMAS D'URFEY
First Line: Born with the vices of my kind, / I were inconstant too
Last Line: Tis easie to be true.
Subject(s): Fidelity; Faithfulness; Constancy
First Line: Born with the vices of my kind, / I were inconstant too
Last Line: Tis easie to be true.
Subject(s): Fidelity; Faithfulness; Constancy
Born with the Vices of my kind,
I were Inconstant too;
Dear Cynthia, could I rambling find
More Beauty than in you.
The rowling Surges of my Blood,
By Virtue now ebb'd low;
Should a new Shower encrease the Flood,
Too soon would overflow.
But Frailty when thy Face I see,
Does modestly retire;
Uncommon must her Graces be,
Whose look can bound desire.
Not to my Virtue, but thy Power,
This Constancy is due;
When change it self can give no more,
'Tis easie to be true.
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