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.