When Want and Care resign their base control,
And tired Sense reclines ’neath Fancy’s beams.
O! years agone I loved a maiden fair,
My hopes were high and my joys Elysian:
Oft as I gazed upon her beauty rare,
Low my Fancy whispered ’tis a vision!
And now I turn and wish that o’er my soul
Such fair and pleasant twilights oftener stole.
