Poem by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester

Loves Harvest

Fond Lunatick forbear, why do'st thou sue
For thy affections pay e're it is due?
Loves fruits are legal use; and therefore may
Be onely taken on the marriage day.
Who for this interest too early call,
By that exaction lose the Principall.
Then gather not those immature delights,
Untill their riper Autumn thee invites.
He that abortive Corn cuts off his ground,
No Husband but a Ravisher is found:
So those that reap their love before they wed,
Do in effect but Cuckold their own Bed. 

1. To the Queen at Oxford
2. Madam Gabrina, Or The Ill-Favourd Choice
3. The Short Wooing
4. On Two Children Dying Of One Disease, And Buried In One Grave
5. Another Of The Same, Paraphrased For An Antheme

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