Poem by Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea

Moral Song

Would we attain the happiest State,
   That is design'd us here;
No Joy a Rapture must create,
   No Grief beget Despair.
No Injury fierce Anger raise,
   No Honour tempt to Pride;
No vain Desires of empty Praise
   Must in the Soul abide.
No Charms of Youth, or Beauty move
   The constant, settl'd Breast:
Who leaves a Passage free to Love,
   Shall let in, all the rest.
In such a Heart soft Peace will live,
   Where none of these abound;
The greatest Blessing, Heav'n do's give,
   Or can on Earth be found.

1. A Miller, His Son, and Their Ass
2. Reformation
3. Life's Progress
4. A Description of One of the Pieces of Tapistry at Long-Leat
5. The Petition for an Absolute Retreat

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