Ah! how, when assur’d of her faith and love,
Could I forfeit the prize, and with happiness part?
How could I inconstant to tenderness prove,
And for visions of splendour relinquish her heart?
But all love is folly!
Like the Shepherd, who rashly abandon’d his flock
To tempt on the billows of ocean his fate,
On shoals tempest-driven, or bilg’d on a rock,
I shall sink and acknowledge my folly too late.
For all love is folly!
(James Bland Burges)
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