To Some Ladies
It had not created a warmer emotionWhat though while the wonders of nature exploring, I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend; Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring, Bless Cynthia’s face, the enthusiast’s friend: Yet over the steep, whence the mountain stream rushes, With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove; Mark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate gushes, Its spray that the wild flower kindly bedews. Why linger you so, the...