Not in a rosy bower,
Not in a garden gay,
Nor by a watchman's tower,
I saw the primrose play;
But by a meadow green--
A meadow sweet and fair,
In beauty it was seen;
I saw the primrose there.
It sported with the breeze,
It courted with the sun,
And tried so hard to please
With all its puny fun.
It flirted with the moon,
And kissed the early dew;
They left it both ere noon;
These lovers were not true.
A little murmuring brook
Came wandering by the way;
It came to have a look,
And with the flower to play.
It gave it drink so sweet,
And sang a pretty song;
The brook seemed to entreat
To be the lover long.
A sturdy old oak tree
Bent o'er it night and day,
Its guardian feigned to be,
And shelter it alway.
In time some courtiers took
Their turn to have a woo.
I came to take a look,
And was a lover too.
I took the pretty flower,
And set it in my breast,
Rejoicing in that hour,
But sorrowing left the rest.
IN MOONLIGHT MET.
_To L. A. A._
Lest gossip wakes, be mute, breathe not a word
Of how, or where, or when, save that we met;
To chance, or luck, or fortune bid the fault,
Till ye can tell how else our friendship came.
Improved occasions are not often rued,
Except discretion fails in self-command.
As brief a while as may a friendship live
No one can tell, so soon it dies, or how,
Now as it came, and as a seed expands,
In nurture soon springs up; so sprang, matured
Each time the more a favor in regard.
As first of chance, unsought till then, but now
Let favor choose if she may hold the power
Drawn from the font of pleasure to supply
Enticing sweets, which, though you took, rebelled.
Reigned o'er the scene the silvery moon, which smiled,
Together with the stars, in silent joy.
Of that she deemed no harm, was sweetly pleased!
Neptune breathed silence and supplied the chance.
A WAYWARD CHILD.
_To K. N._
Knew she not whence fair fancy rose,
Audacious fun in vagrant throws,
Turned random, loose, on purpose set,
Elate to cope with those it met.
Now aptly sprung new forms around,
As each advanced the most profound.
She held to all a winning smile;
How many took her heedful wile.
A FLIRT.
_To L. W._
Lost love, I answer, since you make me tell
Of every maiden who from prudence fell
Unto the rambling tide, flirtation swell.
I mete my mind, though ye regard in scorn;
She gives her heart, in many fragments torn,
A piece to each who have her flirtings borne.
Who spreads her charms to every wind that beats,
Or loves a bit with every man she meets,
Of constant love can never be possessed.
Duped is the man who, for a mating nest,
Sets choice on her; his life shall lack of rest.
THE LITTLE ROGUE.
_To H. B._
Ha! the little rogue, I caught her
As she stole my heart away;
Round and round she had entwined her,
Reeling in her grasp it lay.
In my fancy could I think her
E'er so wicked as to play
Torture on a helpless prey?
But how happy was the sorrow
As a captive there to be,
Resting ever on the morrow
To advance new joys to me!
Lost amid the vast abounding,
Each endeavour found me more
Tangled in the great surrounding,
Turned obeying to adore.