He at my Window whistling loud,
Arous'd my lightsome heart to go:
Day, conqu'ring climb'd from cloud to cloud;
The fields all wore a purple glow.
We stroll'd the bordering flow'rs among:
One hand the Bridle held behind;
The other round my waist was flung:
Sure never Youth spoke half so kind!
The rising Lark I could but hear;
And jocund seem'd the song to be:
But sweeter sounded in my ear,
'Will Dolly still be true to me!'
From the rude Dock my skirt had swept
A fringe of clinging burrs so green;
Like them our hearts still closer crept,
And hook'd a thousand holds unseen.
High o'er the road each branching bough
Its globes of silent dew had shed;
And on the pure-wash'd sand below
The dimpling drops around had spread.
The sweet-brier op'd its pink-ey'd rose,
And gave its fragrance to the gale;
Though modest flow'rs may sweets disclose;
More sweet was HENRY'S earnest tale.
He seem'd, methought, on that dear morn,
To pour out all his heart to me;
As if, the separation borne,
The coming hours would joyless be,
A bank rose high beside the way,
And full against the Morning Sun;
Of heay'nly blue there Violets gay
His hand invited one by.
The posy with a smile he gave;
I saw his meaning in his eyes:
The withered treasure still I have;
My bosom holds the fragrant prize.
With his last kiss he would have vow'd;
But blessings crouding forc'd their way:
Then mounted he his Courser proud;
His time elaps'd, he could not stay.