poem: if love's a sweet passion - henry purcell (1692)

i press her hand gently, look languishing down

and by passionate silence i make my love known.

but oh! how i'm blest when so kind she does prove

by some willing mistake to discover her love.

when in striving to hide, she reveals her flame

and in our eyes tell each other what neither dares name.

if love's a sweet passion why does it torment?

if a bitter, oh tell me, whence comes my content?

since i suffer with pleasure, why should i complain

or grieve at my fate, when i know it's in vain?

yet so pleasing the pain is so soft as the dart

that at once it both wounds me and tickles my heart.


picture by mckee photography (i hope it's ok that i show it, it's so awesome)