To M. S. G.
1. Whene'er I view those lips of thine,
Their hue invites my fervent kiss;
Yet, I forego that bliss divine,
Alas! it were—unhallow'd bliss.
2. Whene'er I dream of that pure breast,
How could I dwell upon its snows!
Yet, is the daring wish represt,
For that,—would banish its repose.
3. A glance from thy soul-searching eye
Can raise with hope, depress with fear;
Yet, I conceal my love,—and why?
I would not force a painful tear.
4. I ne'er have told my love, yet thou
Hast seen my ardent flame too well;
And shall I plead my passion now,
To make thy bosom's heaven a hell?
5. No! for thou never canst be mine,
United by the priest's decree:
By any ties but those divine,
Mine, my belov'd, thou ne'er shalt be.
1. Whene'er I view those lips of thine,
Their hue invites my fervent kiss;
Yet, I forego that bliss divine,
Alas! it were—unhallow'd bliss.
2. Whene'er I dream of that pure breast,
How could I dwell upon its snows!
Yet, is the daring wish represt,
For that,—would banish its repose.
3. A glance from thy soul-searching eye
Can raise with hope, depress with fear;
Yet, I conceal my love,—and why?
I would not force a painful tear.
4. I ne'er have told my love, yet thou
Hast seen my ardent flame too well;
And shall I plead my passion now,
To make thy bosom's heaven a hell?
5. No! for thou never canst be mine,
United by the priest's decree:
By any ties but those divine,
Mine, my belov'd, thou ne'er shalt be.
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