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Poem	We will not like those men our offerings pay Who crown the cup, then think they crown the day. We make no garlands, nor an altar build, Which help not Joy, but Ostentation yield. Where mirth is justly grounded these wild toyes Are but a troublesome, and empty noise. 2. But these shall be my great Solemnities, Orinda's wishes for Cassandra's bliss. May her Content be as unmix'd and pure As my Affection, and like that endure; And that strong Happiness may she still find Not owing to her Fortune, but her Mind. 3. May her Content and Duty be the same, And may she know no Grief but in the name. May his and her Pleasure and Love be so Involv'd and growing, that we may not know Who most Affection or most Peace engrost; Whose Love is strongest, or whose Bliss is most. 4. May nothing accidental e're appear But what shall with new bonds their Souls endear; And may they count the hours as they pass, By their own Joys, and not by Sun or Glass: While every day like this may Sacred prove To Friendship, Gratitude, and Strictest Love.
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