A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes | ||
SONG.
By the Same.
[While, Strephon, thus you teize one]
While, Strephon, thus you teize one,
To say, what won my heart;
It cannot sure be treason,
If I the truth impart.
To say, what won my heart;
It cannot sure be treason,
If I the truth impart.
'Twas not your smile, tho' charming;
'Twas not your eyes, tho' bright;
'Twas not your bloom, tho' warming;
Nor beauty's daz'ling light.
'Twas not your eyes, tho' bright;
'Twas not your bloom, tho' warming;
Nor beauty's daz'ling light.
'Twas not your dress, tho' shining;
Nor shape, that made me sigh:
'Twas not your tongue, combining,
For that I knew—might lye.
Nor shape, that made me sigh:
'Twas not your tongue, combining,
For that I knew—might lye.
No—'twas your generous nature;
Bold, soft; sincere, and gay:
It shone in every feature,
And stole my heart away.
Bold, soft; sincere, and gay:
It shone in every feature,
And stole my heart away.
A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes | ||