Love still has something of the sea, <br /> From whence his Mother rose; <br /> No time his slaves from doubt can free, <br /> Nor give their thoughts repose. <br /> <br /> They are becalm'd in clearest days, <br /> And in rough weather tost; <br /> They wither under cold delays, <br /> Or are in tempests lost. <br /> <br /> One while they seem to touch the port, <br /> Then straight into the main <br /> Some angry wind in cruel sport <br /> Their vessel drives again. <br /> <br /> At first disdain and pride they fear, <br /> Which, if they chance to 'scape, <br /> Rivals and falsehood soon appear <br /> In a more dreadful shape. <br /> <br /> By such degrees to joy they come, <br /> And are so long withstood, <br /> So slowly they receive the sum, <br /> It hardly does them good. <br /> <br /> 'Tis cruel to prolong a pain; <br /> And to defer a joy, <br /> Believe me, gentle Celemene, <br /> Offends the winged boy. <br /> <br /> An hundred thousand oaths your fears <br /> Perhaps would not remove, <br /> And if I gaz'd a thousand years, <br /> I could no deeper love.<br /><br />Sir Charles Sedley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-still-has-something-of-the-sea/
