by Anonymous / Unidentified Author

Fly not so swift
Language: English 
Fly not so swift, my dear, behold me dying,
If not a smiling glance for all my crying,
Yet kill me with thy frowns.
The Satyrs o'er the lawns full nimbly dancing,
Frisk it apace to view thy beauty's glancing.
See how they coast the downs.
Fain wouldst thou turn and yield them their delight,
But that thou fear'st lest I should steal a sight.

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2004-12-08
Line count: 8
Word count: 65