LOVELY are the kindling blushes
Of the gay exulting morn;
Sweet the songs of rival thrushes,
Pouring from the blossomed thorn;
Faint and pale the morning blushes;
Harsh the songs of warbling thrushes;
When my Laura’s charms appear,
When her voice salutes mine ear.
Welcome to the travellers weary,
Fountains in the sandy plain;
Welcome, after winter dreary,
Spring with all her blooming train:
Fountains to the travellers weary;
Spring that chases winter dreary;
Cannot half so welcome be
As my Laura’s sight to me.
Give to bees ambrosial honey;
Give to Bacchanalians wine;
Power to knaves— to misers money;
Love— my Laura’s love be mine!
Soft beneath the shade reclined,
When I broke my tender mind;
Laura, dear consenting maid!
Smiled and blushed—but nothing said.