Frances Sargent Locke Osgood
First Lines
A group of boys in playful strife --
A sunbeam and zephyr were playing about,
Beneath Italia's laughing skies,
Fair image of my fairer child!
I wish the bud would never blow,
My beautiful trembler! how wildly she shrinks!
Never tell me that cheek is not painted, false maid!
She says her heart is in her kiss --
The breeze was high, and blew her sun-brown tresses
Tis just the flower she ought to wear, --
Too late -- too late -- ye steal before me,
What made my Ellen start and smile,
Where foams the fall -- a tameless storm --
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