[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
To the Tune of, The Broom of Cowdenknows.
–
TEach me, Chloe, how to prove
My boasted flame sincere:
‘Tis hard to tell how dear I love,
And hard to hide my care.
–
Sleep in vain displays her charms,
To bribe my soul to rest,
Vainly spreads her silken arms,
And courts me to her breast.
–
Where can Strephon find repose,
If Chloe is not there?
For ah! no peace his bosom knows,
When absent from the fair.
–
What tho’ Phoebus from on high
Withholds his chearful ray,
Thine eyes can well his light supply,
And give me more than day.
– New Words by Different Hands.
