Classic Poem

How blest are they whom mutual passions move
To seal a contract at the shrine of love;
From whose fond hearts the same affections flow,
To join in pleasure, and partake of woe.
If thro' life's course full prosp'rous blows the gale,
And fortune revels in the swelling sail;
One heart expands to see the other fill,
Whilst each anticipates its partner's will.
One just is pleas'd as th'other teems with joy,
And mutual pleasures flow without alloy.
Their wish, when death the busy scene wou'd close,
One tomb to clasp them in their last repose.

Shou'd niggard fate but stint their humble cot,
Affection weds them to their scanty lot:
As well in woe their fortunes they can share,
As if profusion mark'd their splendid fare.
Shou'd pinching want draw forth the throbbing sigh,
'Tis half suppress'd by balmy sympathy:
As parting streams will check the torrent's course,
So cares divided lose full half their force.
Their mutual wants their loves more closely bind,
As sects proscrib'd more zealous still we find.
And when o'er-charg'd with time's relentless load,
They'll glide contented to their last abode.