Strephon hath Fashion, Wit and Youth,
...With all things else that please;
He nothing wants but Love and Truth
....To ruin me with ease:
But he is flint, and bears the Art
...To kindle fierce desire;
His pow'r inflames another's heart,
...Yet he ne'er feels the fire.
O! how it does my Soul perlex,
...When I his charms recall,
To think he shou'd despise our Sex;
...Or, what's worse, love 'em all!
My wearied Heart, like Noah's Dove,
In vain has sought for rest;
Finding no hope to fix my Love,
returns into my Breast.
Elizabeth Taylor (c.1685-1720)
