What needs complaints,
When she a
Has with the
Of saints?
In endless mirth,
She thinks not
What's said or
In earth:
She sees no tears,
Or any
Of thy deep
She hears;
Nor does she mind,
Or think on't now,
That ever
Wast kind:—But changed above,
She likes not there,
As she did here,
Thy love.—Forbear, therefore,
And lull
Thy woes, and
No more.
