My dear Antenor now give o're, <br />For my sake talk of Graves no more; <br />Death is not in our power to gain, <br />And is both wish'd and fear'd in vain <br />Let's be as angry as wee will, <br />Grief sooner may distract then kill, <br />And the unhappy often prove <br />Death is as coy a thing as Love. <br />Those whose own sword their death did give, <br />Afraid were or asham'd to Live; <br />And by an act so desperate, <br />Did poorly run away from fate; <br />'Tis braver much t'out-ride the storm, <br />Endure its rages and shun his harm; <br />Affliction nobly undergone, <br />More Greatness shews than having none. <br />But yet the Wheel in turning round, <br />At last may lift us from the ground, <br />And when our Fortune's most severe, <br />The less we have, the less we fear. <br />And why should we that grief permit, <br />Which can nor mend nor shorten it? <br />Let's wait for a succeeding good, <br />Woes have their Ebb as well as flood: <br />And since Parliament have rescu'd you, <br />Believe that Providence will do so too.<br /><br />Katherine Philips<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-my-antenor/
