 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
HARRIET'S FAVORITE POEMS.
When I survey my Harriet's speaking face,
The smiles that light, the tears that fill her eyes,
The frown of anger, or the rose's grace,
I view the Seasons in succession rise.
When a glance of affection her optics impart,
The Pleasures of Hope are alive in my heart.
The smiles that light, the tears that fill her eyes,
The frown of anger, or the rose's grace,
I view the Seasons in succession rise.
When a glance of affection her optics impart,
The Pleasures of Hope are alive in my heart.
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Lost in the theme, while bending o'er her lyre,
She wakes the tones which fascinate the soul,
I view the Minstrel that I most admire,
And list in rapture while her numbers roll.
When, absent, I yield to reflection's sweet power,
The Pleasures of Memory shorten the hour.
She wakes the tones which fascinate the soul,
I view the Minstrel that I most admire,
And list in rapture while her numbers roll.
When, absent, I yield to reflection's sweet power,
The Pleasures of Memory shorten the hour.
If she, with fondness, chide my ardent kiss,
And, with a soft'ning smile, forbearance ask,
Or bid me, with a frown, forego the bliss,
I bow submission, but neglect the Task.
For should she condemn me the bliss to forego,
In the Grave would I seek for an end of my wo.
And, with a soft'ning smile, forbearance ask,
Or bid me, with a frown, forego the bliss,
I bow submission, but neglect the Task.
For should she condemn me the bliss to forego,
In the Grave would I seek for an end of my wo.
When Fancy through her own creation strays,
To promised joy delighting still to cling,
From her alone, my glowing bosom says,
The Pleasures of Imagination spring.
But when Curiosity rises to vex,
Then Paradise Lost I impute to the sex.
To promised joy delighting still to cling,
From her alone, my glowing bosom says,
The Pleasures of Imagination spring.
But when Curiosity rises to vex,
Then Paradise Lost I impute to the sex.
I told her thus—when, in her snowy arms,
My yielding form the angel gently strained.
And I, bewildered with a maze of charms,
Sighed in her ear—'t is Paradise Regained!
Retired from elysium, the scene to retrace,
My Night Thoughts re-pictured the tender embrace.
My yielding form the angel gently strained.
And I, bewildered with a maze of charms,
Sighed in her ear—'t is Paradise Regained!
Retired from elysium, the scene to retrace,
My Night Thoughts re-pictured the tender embrace.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |