English poem
THE CHARMS of MELODY, SONG 46
by Anonymous
How imperfect is expression, Some emotions to impart— When we mean a fond confession, And yet seek to hide the heart! When our bosoms, all-complying, With delicious tumults swell, And beat what broken, falt'ring, dying Language would, but cannot tell.
Deep confusion's rosy terror Quite expressive paints my cheek: Ask no more: behold your error! Blushes eloquently speak. What! though silent is my anguish, Or breath'd only to the air— Mark my eyes—see how they languish— Read what your's have written there.
Oh! that you could once conceive me Once my soul's strong feelings view! Love has nought more fond, believe me, Friendship nothing half so true. From you, I am wild, despairing; With you, speechless as I touch: This is all that bears declaring, And perhaps declares too much.