Yet, I conceive, thou'lt partly guess;
For, as on thee, my memory ponders,
Perchance, to me thine also wanders;
This for myself, at least I'll say,
Thy form appears through night, through day,
Awake, with it my fancy teems,
In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;
The vision charms the hours away,
And bids me curse Aurora's ray;
For breaking slumbers of delight,