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593. Ah, how sweet it is to love by John Dryden
John Dryden read by Classic Poetry Aloud:
http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com
Giving voice to the poetry of the past.
---------------------------------------
Ah, how sweet it is to love
by John Dryden (1631 – 1700)
Ah, how sweet it is to love!
Ah, how gay is young Desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach Love's fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.
Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
Ev'n the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart:
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.
Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend;
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.
Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein;
But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again:
If a flow in age appear,
'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.
Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2008.
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By Classic Poetry Aloud
4.3
147147 ratings
John Dryden read by Classic Poetry Aloud:
http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com
Giving voice to the poetry of the past.
---------------------------------------
Ah, how sweet it is to love
by John Dryden (1631 – 1700)
Ah, how sweet it is to love!
Ah, how gay is young Desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach Love's fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.
Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
Ev'n the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart:
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.
Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend;
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.
Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein;
But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again:
If a flow in age appear,
'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.
Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2008.
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