I FEAR it is LOVE.
WHy heaves my fond bosom? what can it mean!
Why flutters my heart which was once so serene?
Why this sighing & trembling when Daphne is near?
Or why, when she’s absent, this sorrow and fear?
For ever, methinks, I with wonder could trace,
The thousand soft charms that embelish thy face:
Each moment I view thee, new beauties I find,
With thy face I am charm’d, but enslav’d by thy mind.
Untainted with folly, unsullied by pride.
There native good humour, and virtue reside:
Pray heaven that virtue thy soul may supply
With compassion for him, who without thee must die.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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