 | Poetical Trifles |  |
41
SONG.
Cease to blame my melancholy,
Though with sighs and folded arms,
I muse in silence on her charms;
Censure not—I know 'tis folly.
Though with sighs and folded arms,
I muse in silence on her charms;
Censure not—I know 'tis folly.
Yet, these mournful thoughts possessing,
Such delights I find in grief,
That, could heaven afford relief,
My fond heart would scorn the blessing.
Such delights I find in grief,
That, could heaven afford relief,
My fond heart would scorn the blessing.
| Poetical Trifles | |