Bear with you this, my Valentine, and say,
That you are come on Cupid’s holiday,
Bringing from me, her own devoted youth,
This pledge of love, fidelity, and truth.
Begone, then, Cupid, ere the day pass by,
To her I love sincerely, quickly fly.
Day dream of life, and hope, and love,
Promethean spark of truth above;
O how my inmost spirit burns!
How my heart toward thee yearns!
Dear to my bosom—deeply dear,
It swells with joy when thou art near;
My star of life—mine, only mine,
Joy of my soul, my Valentine.
O, why should not the ladies be
In sentiments as frank as we?
No cause I see a maid to blame
Who does with modesty proclaim
Her love; and kind St. Valentine
Does in this same opinion join,
And I with rapture choose you mine.
The smiling morn, the op’ning spring,
Invite the cheerful birds to sing;
And while they warble on each spray,
Love melts the universal lay.
Let us, my dearest, timely wise,
Like them improve the hour that flies,
And in Love’s rapturous bliss combine,
Upon the day of Valentine.
Let thy tongue, soft love expressing,
In my ears fond thoughts repeat;
Let thy heart, its truth confessing,
With the purest passion beat.
