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1449

I thought the Train would never come—
How slow the whistle sang—
I don't believe a peevish Bird
So whimpered for the Spring—
I taught my Heart a hundred times
Precisely what to say—
Provoking Lover, when you came
Its Treatise flew away
To hide my strategy too late
To wiser be too soon—
For miseries so halcyon
The happiness atone—

Edited by Peter Carter

Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 27 May 2012 2:15 PM | Viewed: 6541 times

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