Two 17th Century Poems

Grieve not, dear Love! Although we often part,
But know that Nature doth us gently sever,
Thereby to train us up, with tender art,
To brook the day when we must part for ever.

For Nature, doubting we should be surprised
By that sad day, whose dread doth chiefly fear us,
Doth keep us daily schooled and exercised,
Lest that the fright thereof should overbear us.

Whenas I wake, I dream oft of my dear, 
  And oft am serious with her in my sleep ; 
And am oft absent when I am most near, 
  And near whenas I greatest distance keep.
    These wonders love doth work, but yet I find 
    That love wants power to make my Mistress kind.