TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER.


Sweet girl! though only once we met,
That meeting I shall ne'er forget;
And though we ne'er may meet again,
Remembrance will thy form retain;
I would not say, "I love" but still
My senses struggle with my will;
In vain to drive thee from my breast,
My thoughts are more and more represt,
In vain, I check the rising sighs,
Another to the last replies;
Perhaps this is not love, but yet
Our meeting I can ne'er forget.

What though we never silence broke,
Our eyes a sweeter language spoke;
The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,
And tells a tale, it never feels;
Deceit, the guilty lips impart,
And hush the mandates of the heart,
But soul's interpreters, the eyes
Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.
As thus our glances oft convers'd,
And all our bosoms felt, rehears'd,
No _spirit_ from within reprov'd us,
Say rather, "'twas the _spirit mov'd us_."
Though what they utter'd, I repress,
Yet, I conceive, thou'lt partly guess;