The poetical works of John Nicholson ... Carefully edited from the original editions, with additional notes and a sketch of his life and writings. By W. G. Hird |
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THE ABSENT LOVER. |
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 | The poetical works of John Nicholson |  |
THE ABSENT LOVER.
In vain the youths and rosy maids
All wish me to be gay,
For health declines, and pleasure fades,
While Henry's far away.
All wish me to be gay,
For health declines, and pleasure fades,
While Henry's far away.
The birds may strain their warbling throats,
Upon the blossom'd spray,
But there's no music in their notes,
When Henry's far away.
Upon the blossom'd spray,
But there's no music in their notes,
When Henry's far away.
The sweets of June, the hill, the dale,
With nature's beauties gay,
Appear to me but winter pale,
When Henry's far away.
With nature's beauties gay,
Appear to me but winter pale,
When Henry's far away.
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The evening moments creep but slow,
And dull's the brightest day;
For none my anxious cares can know,
When Henry's far away.
And dull's the brightest day;
For none my anxious cares can know,
When Henry's far away.
My trembling harp no pleasure yields,
My hands forget to play;
No joy at home, nor in the fields,
While Henry's far away.
My hands forget to play;
No joy at home, nor in the fields,
While Henry's far away.
The hours which now I think my best,
I wish them not to stay;
For nought on earth can make me rest,
While Henry's far away.
I wish them not to stay;
For nought on earth can make me rest,
While Henry's far away.
Pháeton, cord afresh thy whip,
And on thy coursers lay,
To make them o'er thy azure skip,
While Henry's far away.
And on thy coursers lay,
To make them o'er thy azure skip,
While Henry's far away.
And, Night, upon thy sable throne,
Be scarce an hour thy stay:
But bid the weeks be swiftly gone,
While Henry's far away.
Be scarce an hour thy stay:
But bid the weeks be swiftly gone,
While Henry's far away.
Then, on the wings of rosy Health
May he be swiftly borne;
For more to me than worlds of wealth
Will be his blest return.
May he be swiftly borne;
For more to me than worlds of wealth
Will be his blest return.
| The poetical works of John Nicholson | |