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(87) next ››› Page 69Page 69In infancy our hopes and fears

(86) Page 68 - Lover
68 THE SKY-LARK.
But 'tis done, — all words are idle,
Words from me are vainer still,
But the thoughts we cannot bridle,
Force their way without the will.
Fare thee well! thus disunited,
Torn from every nearer tie,
Sear'd in heart, and love, and blighted.
More than this, 1 scarce can die
TRIO.
THE LOVER.
Oh ! for a soft and balmy lip,
Ambrosial nectar there to sip,
Waste the dull day and pleasing night,
In ecstacy's refined delight.
THE TOPER.
Give me a large capacious bowl,
Wherein to lave my thirsty soul,
That I may bathe in joys divine,
And quaff unquench'd the rosy wine.
THE MISER.
Plutus alone on me bestow,
That wealth so crav'd by all below ;
That I, like Midas, may enfold
Unbounded bliss in massy gold.

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