Volume 5 — A SONG.
Reading edition
[Listen]
TO the Grove, gentle Love, let us be going, Where the kind Spring and Wind all Day are Woing; He with soft sighing Blasts strives to o’er-take her, She would not tho’ she flies, have him forsake her, But in circling Rings returning, And in purling Whispers Mourning; She swells and pants, as if she’d say, Fain I would, but dare not stay.