|by Charles Cotton|
Winds, whisper gently whilst she sleeps,
And fan her with your cooling wings;
While she her drops of beauty weeps,
From pure, and yet unrivalled springs.
Glide over Beauty’s field, her face,
To kiss her lip and cheek be bold;
But with a calm and stealing pace;
Neither too rude, nor yet too cold.
Play in her beams, and crisp her hair
With such a gale as wings soft Love,
And with so sweet, so rich an air,
As breathes from the Arabian grove.
A breath as hushed as lover’s sigh;
Or that unfolds the morning’s door:
Sweet as the winds that gently fly
To sweep the Spring’s enamelled floor.
Murmur soft music to her dreams,
That pure and unpolluted run
Like to the new-born crystal streams,
Under the bright enamoured sun.
But when she walking shall display,
Her light, retire within your bar;
Her breath is life, her eyes are day,
And all mankind her creatures are.
Note: A recitation can be heard here.