 | Landscapes in verse |  |
Now tell their happiness, ye blessed few
Who e'er have felt true passion, felt your hearts
Beat quick with transport at the coming dawn,
Ev'n as ye seem to reach the dearest point
Of all your Fancy ever imag'd fair:—
O tell the extacy which now they shar'd,
Beneath the lustre of the rising moon,
Arm wreath'd in arm, and soul to soul conjoin'd!
Who e'er have felt true passion, felt your hearts
Beat quick with transport at the coming dawn,
Ev'n as ye seem to reach the dearest point
Of all your Fancy ever imag'd fair:—
O tell the extacy which now they shar'd,
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Arm wreath'd in arm, and soul to soul conjoin'd!
| Landscapes in verse | |