by Anne Bradstreet
If ever man were lov'd by wife, than thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye woman, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Not aught but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so perservere,
That when we love no more, we may live ever.
Tad & Dixie