 | Songs and poems(1866) |  |
TO A YOUNG LADY WHO TOOK IT ILL TO HAVE ME CALLED HER LOVER.
Lord! Miss, how folks can frame a lie!
Love you, say they?—by Jove not I.
Both Jove and you may witness bring
I never dreamt of such a thing.
Love you, say they?—by Jove not I.
Both Jove and you may witness bring
I never dreamt of such a thing.
Henceforth bid jealousy be gone;
Thy dear, dear self is thine alone;
From fear of rivals thou art free:
—O! were I half so blest as thee.
Thy dear, dear self is thine alone;
From fear of rivals thou art free:
—O! were I half so blest as thee.
| Songs and poems(1866) | |