Written in a Quarrel

Think, Delia, with what cruel haste
   Our fleeting pleasures move,
Nor heedless thus in sorrow waste
   The moments due to love.

Be wise, my fair, and gently treat
   These few that are our friends;
Think, thus abus'd, what sad regret
   Their speedy flight attends!

Sure in those eyes I lov'd so well,
   And wish'd so long to see,
Anger I thought could never dwell,
   Or anger aim'd at me.

No bold offence of mine I knew
   Should e'er provoke your hate;
And, early taught to think you true,
   Still hop'd a gentler fate.

With kindness bless the present hour,
   Or oh! we meet in vain!
What can we do in absence more
   Than suffer and complain?

Fated to ills beyond redress,
   We must endure our woe;
The days allow'd us to possess,
   'Tis madness to forgo.

This work was published before January 1, 1925, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.