All human race would fain be wits,
And millions miss, for one that hits.
                            --Swift

The following is exact feminine (two-syllable, with second unstressed) rhyme:

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
        And leaden-eyed despairs;
Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
  Or new love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
                                    --Keats
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