Cou'd we stop the time that's flying
...Or recall it when 'tis past
Put far off the day of Dying
...Or make Youth forever last
To Love wou'd then be worth our cost.
But since we must loose those Graces
...Which at first your hearts have wonne
And you seek for in new Faces
...When our Spring of Life is done
It wou'd but urdge our ruine on.
Free as Nature's first intention
...Was to make us, I'll be found
Nor by subtle Man's invention
...Yield to be in Fetters bound
By one that walks a freer round.
Marriage does but slightly tye Men
...Whil'st close Pris'ners we remain
They the larger Slaves of Hymen
...Still are begging Love again
At the full length of all their chain.
Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea
