Sweet are the Charms of her I love

Sweet are the Charms of her I love,
More fragrant than the Damask Rose;
Soft as the Down on Turtle-Dove;
Gentle as Air when Zephir blows;
Refreshing as descending Rains,
To Sun-burnt Climes and thirsty Plains.

True as the Needle to the Pole,
Or as the Dial to the Sun;
Constant as gliding Waters roll,
Whose swelling Tides obey the Moon:
From ev'ry other Charmer free,
My Life and Love shall follow thee.

The Lamb the flow'ry Thyme devours;
The Dam the tender Kid pursues;
Sweet Philomel, in shady Bowers
Of verdant Spring, his Note renews:
All follow what they most admire,
As I pursue my Soul's Desire.

Nature must change her beauteous Face,
And vary as the Seasons rise;
As Winter to the Spring gives place,
Summer th' Approach of Autumn flies:
No Change in Love the Seasons bring,
Love only knows perpetual Spring.

Devouring Time, with stealing Pace,
Makes lofty Oaks and Cedars bow;
And marble Tow'rs, and Walls of Brass,
In his rude March he levels low:
But Time, destroying far and wide,
Love from the Soul can ne'er divide.

Death only, with his cruel Dart,
The gentle Godhead can remove;
And drive him from the bleeding Heart,
To mingle with the Bless'd above:
Where, known to all his kindred Train,
He finds a lasting Rest from Pain.

Love, and his Sister fair, the Soul,
Twin-born, from Heav'n together came;
Love will the Universe controul,
When dying Seasons lose their Name:
Divine Abodes shall own his Pow'r,
When Time and Death shall be no more.