Page:Poems - Lewis (1812).djvu/102

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POEMS.
Tow'rds my boat I gently led her;Soon it touched my native strand:There my labour cloathed and fed her,There I gained her heart and hand.Still with love my eyes behold her;Yes, though many a year is o'er,Still I bless the hour I told her,—"Pry'thee, Sweet-heart, weep no more."—
See, she waits me near yon willows!Swift, my boat, to reach her fly.———See, her breast my baby pillows,Transport for a father's eye!Grant, oh! God, such transports may notE'er bless those, who seeing pourTears from female eye-lids, say not,—"Pry'thee, Sweet-heart, weep no more!"—
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