Love caught his heart in a lovely surprise,

Just the first moment he looked in my eyes:

Poor little eyes! by no prescience lit,

They saw him three weeks ere I lov'd him one bit.

Fair is the book1 where we read of a life

Born to a throne, taking love for its bliss,

Self-reproach wounding the sweet royal wife

For keeping two years he had asked for as his.

[pg 2]

So I might suffer a sort of remorse,

Thinking of days that I cared not, yet knew;

Only, he says, ''Tis a matter of course

Girls should be woo'd and their lovers should woo.'

Only, the blossom he stoops not to touch.

Sparkling with beauty that lies at his feet;

Only, the blossom he coveteth much,

Is one that shineth as distant as sweet.

Only, a bird may fly helplessly near,

Chirping aloud in a manner too free;

Only, the bird he delighteth to hear,

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