The Philosophy Of Love
Age cannot Love destroy,
But Perfidy can blast the flower,
Even when in most unwary hour
It blooms in Fancy's bower.
Age cannot Love destroy,
But Perfidy can rend the shrine
In which its vermeil splendours shine.
And though my lute no longer
May sing of passion's ardent spell,
Oh! trust me all the stronger,
I feel the bliss I do not tell.
The bee through many a garden roves,
And sings his lay of courtship o'er,
But when he finds the flower he loves,
He settles there, and hums no more.
Then doubt me not -- the reason
Is o'er, when folly kept me free,
And now the vestal Reason,
Shall guard the flame awak'd by thee.
To sigh, yet feel no pain,
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by;
To kneel at many a shrine,
Yet lay the heart on none;
To think all other charms divine,
But those we just have won;
This is love, careless love,
Such as kindleth hearts that rove.
'Tis said -- but whether true or not
Let bards declare who've seen 'em --
That Love and Time have only got
One pair of wings between 'em.
In courtship's first delicious hour,
The boy full well can spare 'em;
So, loitering in his lady's bower,
He lets the greybeard wear 'em.
Then is Time's hour of play;
Oh, how he flies away!
She has beauty, but still you must keep your heart cool!
She has wit, but you mustn't be caught so:
Thus Reason advises, but Reason's a fool,
And 'tis not the first time I have thought so;
Dear Fanny,
'Tis not the first time I have thought so.
Oh, No - Not E'en When First We Loved.
Oh! no -- not e'en when first we loved,
Wert thou as dear as now thou art;
Thy beauty then my senses moved,
But now thy virtues bind my heart.
What was but Passion's sigh before,
Has since been turned to Reason's vow;
And, though I then might love thee more,
Trust me, I love thee better now.
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