 | Poems |  |
94
SONG.
[FAR from this throbbing bosom haste]
FAR from this throbbing bosom haste,
Ye doubts and fears, that lay it waste;
Dear anxious days of pleasing pain
Fly, never to return again.
Ye doubts and fears, that lay it waste;
Dear anxious days of pleasing pain
Fly, never to return again.
But, ah! return ye smiling hours,
By careless fancy crown'd with flowers;
Come, fairy joys, and wishes gay,
And dance in sportive rounds away.
By careless fancy crown'd with flowers;
Come, fairy joys, and wishes gay,
And dance in sportive rounds away.
So shall the moments gaily glide
O'er varying life's tumultuous tide;
Nor sad regrets disturb their course,
To calmn oblivion's peaceful source.
O'er varying life's tumultuous tide;
Nor sad regrets disturb their course,
To calmn oblivion's peaceful source.
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