First Love
Ah me! how hard the task to bear
The weight of ills we know!
But harder still to dry the tear,
That mourns a nameless we.
If by the side of Lucy's wheel
I sit to see her spin,
My head around begins to reel,
My heart to beat within.
Or when on harvest holiday
I lead the dance along,
If Lucy chance to cross my way,
So sure she leads me wrong,
If I attempt the pipe to play,
And catch my Lucy's eye,
The trembling music dies away,
And melts into a sigh.