LUCINDA breathed a pensive sigh;
Lucinda wept, she knew not why;
Arch Damon stole a kiss, and she
Looked, in her turn— as arch as he!
Thus have I seen an April morn,
All bathed in tears, like nymph forlorn;
Till Phoebus rose, her bridegroom gay,
And then—she blushed herself to day!