WHEN ON THE LIP THE SIGH DELAYS.

When on the lip the sigh delays,

As if‘ twould linger there for ever;

When eyes would give the world to gaze,

Yet still look down and venture never;

When, tho’ with fairest nymphs we rove,

There's one we dream of more than any —

If all this is not real love,

‘ Tis something wondrous like it, Fanny!

To think and ponder, when apart,

On all we've got to say at meeting;

And yet when near, with heart to heart,

Sit mute and listen to their beating:

To see but one bright object move,

The only moon, where stars are many —

If all this is not downright love,

I prithee say what is, my Fanny!

When Hope foretells the brightest, best,

Tho’ Reason on the darkest reckons;

When Passion drives us to the west,

Tho’ Prudence to the eastward beckons;

When all turns round, below, above,

And our own heads the most of any —

If this is not stark, staring love,

Then you and I are sages, Fanny.