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157
EMMA.
(JUVENILE.)
EMMA! thou art a peerless maid,
To every virtue plighted;
And, in each winning grace array'd,
That fancy e'er delighted.
To every virtue plighted;
And, in each winning grace array'd,
That fancy e'er delighted.
Thou hast a dimple on thy cheek,
Of white, and blushing roses;
And, in thine eyes, that pleasure speak,
The Soul of Love reposes.
Of white, and blushing roses;
And, in thine eyes, that pleasure speak,
The Soul of Love reposes.
Thou hast a smile, the whole to crown,
Which fills all hearts with gladness;
But, Oh! sometimes thou hast a frown,
Which turns our joy to sadness.
Which fills all hearts with gladness;
But, Oh! sometimes thou hast a frown,
Which turns our joy to sadness.
Dear maid! one boon I ask of thee,
Whose voice deceived never;—
It is, that thou wilt smile on me,
And banish frowns for ever!
Whose voice deceived never;—
It is, that thou wilt smile on me,
And banish frowns for ever!
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