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THE
GOLDFINCH.
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Fly from the World.
Fly from the world, oh Bessy! to me,
Thou'lt never find any sincerer,
I'll give up the world, oh Bessy! to thee,
I can never meet any that's dearer!
Then tell me no more with a tear and a sigh,
That our loves shall be censured by many;
All have their follies, and who will deny
That ours is the sweetest of any?
When your lip has met mine in abandonment sweet
Have we felt as if virtue forbid it?
Have we felt as if Heaven denied them to meet
No, rather ‘twas Heaven that did it!
So innocent, love, is the pleasure we sip,
So little of guilt is there in it,
That I wish all my errors were lodg'd on your lip,
And I'd kiss them away in a minute!
