Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903/To My Sister Ogle
TO MY SISTER OGLE, DECBR 31, 1688
When dear Teresa, shall I beBy Heaven, again restor'd to you?Thus, if once more your face I see,Thus, our lost pleasures, we'll renew.
Our yesterday, when kindly past,Shall teatch how this shou'd be enjoy'd,And urge to morrows eager haste,As longing, to be thus employ'd.
Time, shall pay back the years and hours,That in our absence posted by;Time, shall submitt to freindships pow'rs,And as we please, shall rest, or fly.
The sun, that stood to look on War,And lengthen'd out that fatal day,For kindnesse, more engaging far,Will longer sure, his fall delay.
At last, when Fate, the word shall give,That we no longer, here below,This soft, endearing life shall live,In Tryumph we'll together go,
New arts to find, new joys to try,The height of freindship to improve;Tis' worth our pains, and fears to dye;To learn new misteries of Love.