60
TO A YOUNG LADYWHO INDULGED IN MELANCHOLY ON A TRIFLING OCCASION.
Why dost thou round that beauteous brow
Sad sorrow's chaplets love to twine?
Ah! rather choose the rose's glow,
And leave that dark-hued wreath for mine.
Thou hast but sipp'd of sorrow's cup,
Whilst I, alas! have drank it up.
Sad sorrow's chaplets love to twine?
Ah! rather choose the rose's glow,
And leave that dark-hued wreath for mine.
Thou hast but sipp'd of sorrow's cup,
Whilst I, alas! have drank it up.
Cheer thee, sweet maid, and let not woe
O'ercloud thy features heavenly bright,
And may'st thou ne'er be doom'd to know
Misfortune's storm, or misery's blight!
Oh! never may that bitter draught
By thy pure lips be deeply quaff'd.
O'ercloud thy features heavenly bright,
And may'st thou ne'er be doom'd to know
Misfortune's storm, or misery's blight!
Oh! never may that bitter draught
By thy pure lips be deeply quaff'd.
