University of Virginia Library


39

TO Cleora.

I

You say you never think of Love,
Or know not what it is;
Nor ever had desires to prove
The sweetness of the bliss.

II

'Tis true, you say't, and we believe,
However strange it seems,
You may not wish, but pray forgive,
If we mistrust your Dreams.

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III

A sleep your prejudice is gone,
And nothing sow'rs the mind,
Your wishes then a pace come on,
And force you to be kind.

IV

The Angels who your slumbers guard,
Your tender Breast inspire
With Love, and Sing the dear reward
Of every soft desire.

V

But when you wake 'tis all forgot,
The Vision flies away;
And in the Night what power it got,
It looses in the day.

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VI

Your Kindness is to shades confin'd,
And dies before the Light,
By day Cleora then be kind,
Or be it ever night.