CONSTANCY

I first saw Phebe when the show'rs

Had just made brighter all the flow'rs;

Yet she was fair

As any there,

And so I loved her hours and hours.

Then I met Helen, and her ways

Set my untutored heart ablaze.

I loved at sight

And deemed it right

To worship her for days and days.

Yet when I gazed on Clara's cheeks

And spoke the language Cupid speaks,

O'er all the rest

She seemed the best,

And so I loved her weeks and weeks.

But last of Love's sweet souvenirs

Was Delia with her sighs and tears.

Of her it seemed

I'd always dreamed,

And so I loved her years and years.

But now again with Phebe met,

I love the first one of the set.

“Fickle,” you say?

I answer, “Nay,

My heart is true to one quartette.”