Song XXIX. Song of Sentiment

Jenney! hide your milk-white bosom, Powerful as your face to please; Fairer than the lilly's blossom— It has robb'd me of my ease. Why take pleasure so to pain me? While you see I constant prove; Can you wound, and yet disdain me? Do you thus requite my love?

Think you that a youthful lover E,er will clasp you in his arms, When the bloom of beauty's over, And you're strip'd of all your charms? Fresh and sweet as morning roles, Try to seize the present while; When the laughing Summer closes, Winter never wears a smile.