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When stormy Midnight howling round
Beats on our roof with clatt'ring sound,
To me your arms you'll stretch:
Great God! you'll say—To us so kind,
O shelter from this loud bleak wind
The houseless, friendless wretch!
The tears that tremble down your cheek,
Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek
In Pity's dew divine;
And from your heart the sighs that steal
Shall make your rising bosom feel
The answ'ring swell of mine!
How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet
I paint the moment, we shall meet!
With eager speed I dart
