O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm,
And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest,
Then thou wouldst melt the ice out of thy breast,
And thy relenting heart would kindly warm.
O if thy pride did not our joys controul,
What world of loving wonders shouldst thou see!
For if I saw thee once transform'd in me,
Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul;
Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine;
And if that aught mischanced, thou shouldst not moan
Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone;
No, I would have my share in what were thine:
And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one,
This happy harmony would make them none.
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