 | A Collection of Original Poems |  |
A SONG.
To Cælia.
'Tis true, my Cælia, thou art fair,
As snows yet hov'ring in the air;
That in the lilly we may find
An emblem of thy virtuous mind;
The stars of yonder firmament,
The lustre of thine eyes present.
As snows yet hov'ring in the air;
That in the lilly we may find
An emblem of thy virtuous mind;
The stars of yonder firmament,
The lustre of thine eyes present.
Yon blooming peach is like thy lip,
Where Cupid takes delight to sip;
And if the blushing rose we seek,
We find it pictur'd in thy cheek;
The jetty ringlets of thy hair,
A thousand lovers hearts ensnare.
Where Cupid takes delight to sip;
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We find it pictur'd in thy cheek;
The jetty ringlets of thy hair,
A thousand lovers hearts ensnare.
But as the lilly and the rose,
The peach that with such fragrance glows,
Shall with'ring fall to quick decay;
So shall thy beauties fleet away:
Snows melt, and meteors in the skies,
Set like thy youth, no more to rise.
The peach that with such fragrance glows,
Shall with'ring fall to quick decay;
So shall thy beauties fleet away:
Snows melt, and meteors in the skies,
Set like thy youth, no more to rise.
Then while thou hast it in thy pow'r,
My fairest seize the present hour;
Take, take me blushing to thy arms,
And bless my love with all thy charms;
Else the sad time may come, when thou
In vain shalt beg, as I do now.
My fairest seize the present hour;
Take, take me blushing to thy arms,
And bless my love with all thy charms;
Else the sad time may come, when thou
In vain shalt beg, as I do now.
| A Collection of Original Poems | |