 | Poems (1806) |  |
234
SONG VIII. To Miss S*****.
Whene'er I see thy tender breastWith sickness or with grief opprest;
When thy soft looks denote too plain
How exquisite thy sense of pain;
When the tear glitters in thine eye,
For thee, sweet Marianne, I die.
Again, when health resumes its place,
And joy sits smiling on thy face;
Thy humourous wit, and spirits gay,
In frolic mazes as they stray,
Enforce me still, do what I can,
To die for thee, sweet Marianne.
When in yet happier hours I find
Thy soul to harmony inclin'd,
See thy hand touch the trembling strings,
And hear each melting sound it brings;
Then am I lost in extasy,
And die, sweet Marianne, for thee.
W. D.
| Poems (1806) | |