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This seeming liberty I take,
Believe me not for custom’s sake;
Still doth my constant heart incline.
To thee my dearest Valentine.
It is the language of that heart,
Which now I candidly impart,
No formal words precise and fine,
Unworthy of my Valentine.
Believe me, oh, thou charming fair,
The language of the heart’s sincere;
Then do not love for love decline,
But be my faithful Valentine.
TO A LADY OFTEN WRITTEN TO BEFORE.
How often I’ve written in vain,
How often in vain have implor’d?
Oh, have I no right to complain,
When slighted by her I’ve ador’d?
Thy sex is for tenderness known,
Dear women our manners refine;
Then why to unkindness thus prone,
Why slight thus a fond Valentine ?
TO A LADY.
To thee I am attach’d,
