42
POEMS.
How oft in the dream of the night
Have I doated on Amoret's charms!
How oft at return of the light
Have I wished she were clasped in my arms!
How I grieved that it was but a dream,
And vainly looked round for relief!
The grief which I felt was extreme,
And my folly was great as my grief:
Have I doated on Amoret's charms!
How oft at return of the light
Have I wished she were clasped in my arms!
How I grieved that it was but a dream,
And vainly looked round for relief!
The grief which I felt was extreme,
And my folly was great as my grief:
For though I could never persuade
My heart, that She e'er would be mine,
Though I knew to be loved by a Maid
In mind and in form thus divine,
Was bliss so peculiar, so high,
That it never could fall to my lot,
Yet I loved her, and never thought why,
And hoped, though I dared not say what!
My heart, that She e'er would be mine,
Though I knew to be loved by a Maid
In mind and in form thus divine,
Was bliss so peculiar, so high,
That it never could fall to my lot,
Yet I loved her, and never thought why,
And hoped, though I dared not say what!
I sighed for that bliss night and day,
Which I feared I should never obtain;
I mourned that the Maid was away,
Though I thought we should ne'er meet again.
My folly in vain I discerned,
In vain to forget her I strove,
For Nature, where-ever I turned,
Still bade me remember my love!
Which I feared I should never obtain;
I mourned that the Maid was away,
Though I thought we should ne'er meet again.
My folly in vain I discerned,
In vain to forget her I strove,
For Nature, where-ever I turned,
Still bade me remember my love!
