Tixall Poetry/To Mrs Constance Aston

by unknown author

To Mrs Constance Aston.

 

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As in the summer a soft falling shower
 Tempereth Sol's beams, and cooles the parched earth,
Refresheth every field, to every flower
 More sweetness yields, and gives to new ones birth;

So in this cloud of griefe your beauty weares,
 Your eyes but warme whom they were wont to burne,
Your lovely face thus gently dew'd with teares,
 For every drop doth a fresh charme returne.

And as this sorrow doth your beauty raise,
 By it of future joyes yourselfe assure;
It is their dawne; those are the fairest days,
 Whose morning light mists for a while obscure.