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Amelia Opie - To Henry
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Think not, while fairer nymphs invite
Thy feet, dear youth, to Pleasure`s bowers,
My faded form shall meet thy sight,
And cloud my Henry`s smiling hours.

Thou art the world`s delighted guest,
And all that pride desires is thine;
Then I`ll not wound thy generous breast,
By numbering o`er the woes of mine.

I will not say how well, how long
This faithful heart has sighed for thee;
But leave thee happier nymphs among,
Content if thou contented be.

But, Henry, should Misfortune`s hand
Bid all thy youth`s fond triumphs fly,
The crimson from thy lip command,
And force the lustre from thine eye,….

Then, thoughtless of my own distress,
I`ll haste thy comforter to prove;
And Henry shall my friendship bless,
Although, alas! he scorns my love.
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