Fair Iris I love and hourly I die,
But not for a lip nor a languishing eye:
She's fickle and false, and there I agree;
For I am as false and as fickle as she:
We neither believe what either can say;
And, neither believing, we neither betray.
'Tis civil to swear and say things, of course;
We mean not the taking for better or worse.
When present we love, when absent agree;
I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me:
The legend of love no couple can find
So easy to part, or so equally join'd.
More verses by John Dryden
- Mac Flecknoe: A Satire Upon The True-Blue Protestant Poet T
- Ask Not The Cause Why Sullen Spring
- Alexander's Feast; Or, The Power Of Music
- A Song For St. Cecilia's Day
- Can Life Be A Blessing