University of Virginia Library


317

TO CHLOE.

Let Sorrow seek her native night,
For why should mortals court the tear?
Joy, joy should wing each moment's flight,
And Echo nought but rapture hear.
I'll gather wisdom from the dove,
And make my life a life of love.
While youth sits sparkling in thine eyes,
And lips are rich with many a kiss;
Aloud the voice of Nature cries,
‘I form'd those charms alone for bliss:
Go, nymph, learn wisdom from my dove,
And be thy life a life of love.’