 | Songs of a Stranger |  |
101
FROM TASSO'S AMINTA.
Picciola e l' ape, &c.
The golden bee, whose summer hours
Are passed amidst the blushing flowers,
Though small his size, though weak his wing,
Has power and torture in his sting:
Even such is love, for small the space
He asks to give him ample place.
Are passed amidst the blushing flowers,
Though small his size, though weak his wing,
Has power and torture in his sting:
Even such is love, for small the space
He asks to give him ample place.
Now in the shade thine eyelids give;
Now in thy waving golden hair;
Now in the dimpled smiles that live
Upon that cheek so soft and fair—
Conceal'd, he there has room to dwell;
And ah! his power I know too well!
Now in thy waving golden hair;
Now in the dimpled smiles that live
Upon that cheek so soft and fair—
Conceal'd, he there has room to dwell;
And ah! his power I know too well!
| Songs of a Stranger | |