And clos’d are those eyes, in whose beams I rejoice,
And veil’d are those lips which enrapture my soul.
Conceal’d are those cheeks where luxuriantly glow
The tenderest graces of beauty and youth,
And hidden from me is that bosom of snow,
The mansion of purity, virtue, and truth.
She’s absent, yet lovely and graceful to view,
Kind fancy restores the fair pride of my heart,
Spring calls forth the verdure of nature anew,
Her smiles to my senses fresh pleasures impart.