Attun’d to the scene, when the pale yellow moon is on
Tower and tree they’d look sober and sage,
And when they all wink’d their dear peepers in unison,
Night, pitchy night, would envelop the stage.
VII.
Ah! could I some girl from yon box for her youth pick,
I’d love her as long as she blossomed in youth;
Oh! white is the ivory case of her tooth pick,
But when beauty smiles how much whiter the tooth.)
VI.