I
��BEN JON30N
A Nymph's Secret LOVE, and He loves me again,
��Yet dare I not tell, Who, For if the Nymphs should know my Swain,
I fear they'd love him too'
Yet if it be not known ; The pleasure is as good as none; For that's a narrow joy, is but our own.
I'll tell' that, if they be not glad,
They may yet envy me; But then, if I grow jealous mad,
And of them, pitied be,
It were a plague 'bove scorn; And yet it cannot be foi borne, Unless my heart would, as my thought, be torn.
He is (if they can find him) fair,
And fresh and fragrant too As summer's sky, or purged air,
And looks as lilies do
That arc, this morning, blown. Yet, yet, I doubt, he is not known , And fear much more, that more of him be shown.
But he hath eyes so round and bright,
As make away my doubt, Where Love may all his torches light,
Though hate had put them out.
But then, t' increase my fears, What Nymph soe'er, his voice but hears, Will be my rival, though she have but ears.
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