Doth thro’ the soul its tenderness diffuse,
A magic all have felt and feel, how e’er they struggle to conceal
A magic all have felt and feel, how e’er they struggle to conceal,
Or as the dew upon the flowrets sleeping,
Over the leaves a distillation rains,
Which tho’ the day dissolve its pearly weeping,
Still in their heart reviving them remains.