![]() | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | ![]() |
148
Sent Me, from a Lady, with a Rose.
Whilst these vernal Sweets exhale,
Whilst you bless the Rosy Gale;
Think upon the Giver's State,
Think, and O compare our Fate!
Whilst you bless the Rosy Gale;
Think upon the Giver's State,
Think, and O compare our Fate!
View your Laura, view her Flower,
Smiling Daughters of an Hour!
Sweet's our Beauty, fair our Hue;
Sweet, and fair, at least to you.
When with tender Ardour prest,
We lie blushing on your Breast:
Happy! could we still enjoy;
Happy! could we never cloy:
Happy! could we keep our Charms
From, or, ever in those Arms!
But when once those Charms decay,
Both, like Weeds, are thrown away.
Smiling Daughters of an Hour!
Sweet's our Beauty, fair our Hue;
Sweet, and fair, at least to you.
When with tender Ardour prest,
We lie blushing on your Breast:
Happy! could we still enjoy;
Happy! could we never cloy:
149
From, or, ever in those Arms!
But when once those Charms decay,
Both, like Weeds, are thrown away.
![]() | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | ![]() |