| Thou canst not hope, O nymph divine | 3 | 9 |
| That I should ever court the | ||
| Or that, when passion’s glow is done, | 1 | |
| My heart can ever love but | ||
| When, from Hope’s flowers exhales the dew, | 2 | |
| Then Love’s false smiles desert us | ||
| Then Fancy’s radiance ’gins to flee, | 3 | |
| And life is robbed of all the | ||
| And Sorrow sad her tears must pour | 4 | |
| O’er cheeks where roses bloomed be | ||
| Yes! life’s a scene all dim as Styx; | 6 | |
| Its joys are dear at | ||
| Its raptures fly so quickly hence | 18d | |
| They’re scarcely cheap at | ||
| Oh! for the dreams that then survive! | 25 | |
| They’re high at pennies | ||
| The breast no more is filled with heaven | 27 | |
| When years it numbers | ||
| And yields it up to Manhood’s fate | 28 | |
| About the age of | ||
| Finds the world cold and dim and dirty | 30 | |
| Ere the heart’s annual count is | ||
| Alas! for all the joys that follow | 25 | |
| I would not give a quarter dollar. | ||
| 1 | 97½ | |
Thus, my dear maid, I send to you
The balance of my meter due;
Please scrutinize the above amount,
And set it down to my account.
“FRAGMENTS OF AN ORIGINAL LOVE STORY.”
BY
J. G. STAUNTON, AND A SOUTH CAROLINA LADY.
After a “lovers’