A SONG by LADY M. W. M

Dear Colin prevent my warm blushes, Since how can I speak without pain; My eyes have oft told you their wishes. Ah! can't you their meaning explain?

My passion would lose by expression, And you too might cruelly blame: Then dont you expect a confession Of what is too tender to name.

Since yours is the province of speaking, Why should you expect it of me? Our wishes should be in our keeping, 'Till you tell us what they should be.

Then quickly why don't you discover? Did your breast feel tortures like mine, Eyes need not tell over, and over What I in my bosom confine.