How closely the woodbine has twined...
How closely the woodbine has twined round my bow'r!
How sweet its perfume, and how lovely its flower;
The beauty and fragrance thus wasted on air,
Might mingle their sweets with the charms of my fair:
The blossoms expand in the beam of her eye,
Then sink on her bosom, enraptur'd, and die.
How often I think when entwining its boughs,
Would my soul's darling idol here witness my vows;
Not the pilgrims that visit St Wenefrede's shrine,
Could shew a devotion so ardent as mine;
To their virgin saint while they offer a part,
My all I'd resign to the queen of my heart.
To the banks of the Wye would she wander to view
My woodbine, when weeping with evening's soft dew;
It's balm-breathing beauties so fresh would appear,
My arbour so gay, and my fountain so clear:
That Lucy herself with a smile might approve
The work of wild fancy thus guided by love.
About the headline (FAQ)
Submitted by Ferdinando Albeggiani
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Text added to the website: 2012-01-15.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:04:45
Line count: 18
Word count: 157
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