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 | The Poems of St. George Tucker of Williamsburg, Virginia 1752-1827 |  |
To Cynthia
When Cynthia's crescent I behold
A luster shedding 'round her brow,
I'm half convinced when I am told,
That Art can vie with Nature, now.
A luster shedding 'round her brow,
I'm half convinced when I am told,
That Art can vie with Nature, now.
But when her beauteous eyes I view,
That sparkle with a ray divine,
I feel the ancient maxim's true,
That Art cannot, like Nature, shine.
That sparkle with a ray divine,
I feel the ancient maxim's true,
That Art cannot, like Nature, shine.
O! Were I suffered to descry
Those other orbs that swell below,
Where fancy sets before my eye,
Two rosebuds, peeping through the snow;
Transported at the sight, I'd swear,
Art ne'er can rival Nature, there.
Those other orbs that swell below,
Where fancy sets before my eye,
Two rosebuds, peeping through the snow;
Transported at the sight, I'd swear,
Art ne'er can rival Nature, there.
Then Cynthia, deign to smile upon
And make me, thy Endymion.
And make me, thy Endymion.
Mar. 10, 1799
| The Poems of St. George Tucker of Williamsburg, Virginia 1752-1827 | |