Cease, anxious world, your fruitless pain
To grasp forbidden store;
Your studied labours shall prove vain
Your Alchemy unblest
While seeds of far more precious ore
Are ripen'd in my breast

My breast, the forge of happier love
Where my Lucinda lives;
And the rich stock does so improve
As she her art employs
That ev'ry smile and touch she gives
Turns all to golden joys

Since then we can such treasures raise
Let's no expense refuse;
In love let's lay out all our days
How can we e'er be poor
When ev'ry blessing that we use
Begets a thousand more?