And tells a tale, it never feels;
Deceit, the guilty lips impart,
And hush the mandates of the heart,
But soul's interpreters, the eyes
Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.
As thus our glances oft convers'd,
And all our bosoms felt, rehears'd,
No spirit from within reprov'd us,
Say rather, "'twas the spirit mov'd us."
Though what they utter'd, I repress,