ANN COLLINS

The Winter being over, In order comes the Spring, Which doth green herbs discover, And cause the birds to sing. The night also expirèd, Then comes the morning bright, Which is so much desirèd By all that love the light. This may learn Them that mourn, To put their grief to flight: The Spring succeedeth Winter, And day must follow night. He therefore that sustaineth Affliction or distress, Which every member paineth, And findeth no release: Let such therefore despair not, But on firm hope depend, Whose griefs immortal are not, And therefore must have end. They that faint With complaint Therefore are to blame: They add to their afflictions, And amplify the same.

Such is the force of each created thing That it no solid happiness can bring, Which to our minds can give contentment sound; For, like as Noah’s dove no succour found, Till she return’d to him that sent her out, Just so, the soul in vain may seek about For rest or satisfaction any where, Save in his presence who hath sent her here; Yea though all earthly glories should unite Their pomp and splendour to give such delight, Yet could they no more sound contentment bring Than star-light can make grass or flowers spring.