Page:The Domestic Affections, and Other Poems.pdf/10



Guide me to thy fav'rite bow'rs, To deck thy rural shrine with flow'rs. In thy lowly, sylvan cell, Peace and virtue love to dwell; Ever let me own thy sway, Still to thee my tribute pay.

When Zephyr waves his balmy wing, To kiss the sweets of May; When the soft melodies of spring Resound from ev'ry spray; With thee, sweet maid! I'll rove along, And tread the morning dews; To hear the wood-lark's early song, To court the laughing muse.

With thee I'll rove, when summer pours Her treasures o'er the land; When fair Pomona sheds her stores, With kind, luxuriant hand;—