Young Susan was a likely lass;
I knew her well and long;
A modest girl and good she was,
Or else my guess was wrong.
I went and came, I came and went,
As rivers ebb and flow:
Whene'er I came I felt content,
Nor less when forced to go.

Anon, without my choice or voice,
Things took another turn;
The Coming bade my heart rejoice,
The Going made it mourn:
I had no hope, no home, no goal,
Save Sue, and Sue alone,
My mind and thoughts, my heart and soul
Were her's, and not mine own.

Then deaf I grew, and dumb, and dull,
I saw nor bloom nor flower,
For nought was bright or beautiful
Unless in Susan's bower;
Sun, stars, or moon, by night or noon,
I could not find or mind—
I only gazed on Sue, and soon
I gazed my peepers blind.

When lo! a different season came,
And I was changed anew.
Though Susan still remained the same,
As fair, as good, as true,
I went and came, I came and went,
As rivers ebb and flow,
But always came with less content,
And went, well pleased to go.

Ye sages grave, you understand
Why many a youth and miss
Join heart and hand in Wedlock's band,
And woo, and coo, and kiss:
Ye thinkers, then, ye learned men,
I pray you tell me free,
The How and Where, the Why and When
Things went so odd with me.

I've thought, myself, both morn and night,
Both night and morn I've thought;
I've thought, and sought, and prayed for light,
But I've discovered nought;
So Love, you mind, is like the wind—
You feel it while it blows—
But whence it comes you cannot find,
Nor follow where it goes.

When on thy lip my soul I breath,
Which there meets thine,
Freed from their fetters by this death
Our subtile Forms combine;
Thus without bonds of sence they move,
And like two Cherubins converse by love.

Spirits to chains of earth confin'd
Discourse by sence;
But ours that are by flames refin'd
With those weak ties dispence;
Let such in words their minds display,
We in a kisse our mutual thoughts convey.

But since my soul from me doth flie,
To thee retir'd,
Thou canst not both retain; for I
Must be with one inspir'd;
Then, Dearest, either justly mine
Restore, or in exchange let me have thine.

Yet if thou dost return mine own,
Oh tak't again!
For 'tis this pleasing death alone
Gives ease unto my pain:
Kill me once more, or I shall find
Thy pity then thy cruelty, lesse kind.