Kiss but its leaves;--one kiss from thee,
And all its sweetness 'twill regain;
And, if I live in memory
Thus honour'd, send it back again!




LINES

TO MRS. B----, AT BRISTOL HOT WELLS


Tho' nought, amid these darkened groves,
But various groups of death appear,
Scar'd at the sight, tho' fly the Loves,
And Sickness saddens all the year,

Yet, Clara, where you deign to stay,
Your sense and manners charm us so,
E'en sick'ning Sorrow's self looks gay,
And smiles amid the wreck of woe.




LINES

TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH,