A Song: Absent from thee I languish still

Absent from thee I languish still;
Then ask me not, When I return?
The straying Fool 'twill plainly kill,
To wish all Day, all Night to mourn.

Dear, from thine Arms then let me fly,
That my fantastick Mind may prove,
The Torments it deserves to try,
That tears my fix, Heart from my Love.

When wearied with a World of Woe,
To thy safe Bosom I retire,
Where Love and Peace and Truth does flow,
May I contented there expire.

Left once more wandring from that Heav'n,
I fall on some base Heart unblest;
Faithless to thee, false, unforgiven,
And lose my everlasting Rest.