And still though tears obstruct our sight,
We lingering look a last farewell.—
O'er fields, through which we us'd to run,
And spend the hours in childish play,
O'er shades where, when our race was done,
Reposing on my breast you lay,
Whilst I, admiring, too remiss,
Forgot to scare the hovering flies,
Yet envied every fly the kiss,
It dar'd to give your slumbering eyes.