A collection of original poems and translations | ||
Alas! my Mother! she alone's to blame,
She never woo'd for me, ne'er told my Flame,
Tho' sleepless on the Banks she knew I lay,
And saw each Morning how I fell away.
To vex her, of the Head-ach I'll complain,
Why shou'd not she, as well as I, have Pain?
She never woo'd for me, ne'er told my Flame,
Tho' sleepless on the Banks she knew I lay,
And saw each Morning how I fell away.
To vex her, of the Head-ach I'll complain,
Why shou'd not she, as well as I, have Pain?
A collection of original poems and translations | ||