SONG.

Alexis calls me cruel;

The rifted crags that hold

The gathered ice of winter,

He says, are not more cold.

When even the very blossoms

Around the fountain's brim,

And forest walks, can witness

The love I bear to him.

I would that I could utter

My feelings without shame;

And tell him how I love him,

Nor wrong my virgin fame.

Alas! to seize the moment

When heart inclines to heart,

And press a suit with passion,

Is not a woman's part.

If man comes not to gather

The roses where they stand,

They fade among their foliage;

They cannot seek his hand.