To Anne
Oh say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreedThe heart which adores you should wish to dissever;Such Fates were to me most unkind ones indeed,--To bear me from Love and from Beauty for ever.
Your frowns, lovely girl, are the Fates which aloneCould bid me from fond admiration refrain;By these, every hope, every wish were o'erthrown,Till smiles should restore me to rapture again.
As the ivy and oak, in the forest entwin'd,The rage of the tempest united must weather;My love and my life were by nature design'dTo flourish alike, or to perish together.
Then say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreedYour lover should bid you a lasting adieu:Till Fate can ordain that his bosom shall bleed,His Soul, his Existence, are centred in you.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.