First Love.

Ah me! how hard the task to bear

The weight of ills we know!

But harder still to dry the tear,

That mourns a nameless we.

If by the side of Lucy's wheel

I sit to see her spin,

My head around begins to reel,

My heart to beat within.

Or when on harvest holliday

I lead the dance along,

If Lucy chance to cross my way,

So sure she leads me wrong,

If I attempt the pipe to play,

And catch my Lucy's eye,

The trembling musick dies away,

And melts into a sigh.

Where'er I go, where'er I turn,

If Lucy there be found,

I seem to shiver, yet I burn,

My head goes swimming round.

I cannot bear to see her smile,

Unless she smile on me;

And if she frown, I sigh the while,

But know not whence it be.

Ah, what have I to Lucy done

To cause me so much stir?

From rising to the setting sun

I sigh, and think of her.

In vain I strive to join the throng

In social mirth and ease;

Now lonely woods I stray among,

For only woods can please.

Ah, me! this restless heart I fear

Will never be at rest,

‘ Till Lucy cease to live, or tear

Her image from my breast.