LOVE.
Whilst tracing thy visage, I sink in emotion,
For no other damsel so wond'rous I see;
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
I think of no other, my true-love, but thee.
With heart-burning rapture I gaze on thy beauty,
And fly like a bird to the boughs of a tree;
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
I fancy no other, my true-love, but thee.
Thus oft in the valley I think, and I wonder
Why cannot a maid with her lover agree?
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
I pine for no other, my true-love, but thee.
I'd fly from thy frowns with a heart full of sorrow—
Return, pretty damsel, and smile thou on me;
By every endeavor, I II try thee forever,
And languish until I am fancied by thee.
ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.
Blest Babe! it at length has withdrawn,
The Seraphs have rocked it to sleep;
