Might appear to our thought evermore.

'Was it life, was it life?' we might say ''twas scarce life,'
'Was it love? 'twas scarce love,' looking down,
'Yet we mind a sweet ray of the red sun one day
Low lying on Wendover town.




THE LOVER PLEADS.


I.

When I had guineas many a one
Nought else I lackèd 'neath the sun,
I had two eyes the bluest seen,
A perfect shape, a gracious mien,
I had a voice might charm the bale
From a two days widowed nightingale,
And if you ask how this I know
I had a love who told me so.
The lover pleads, the maid hearkeneth,
Her foot turns, his day darkeneth.
Love unkind, O can it be
'T was your foot false did turn from me.


II.