You ask me, my heavenly Maid !
Why my fancy is thus prone to wander,
Why the vows that to you once were paid
Are now given alone to Cassandra.
Go question the gay-humming bee
Why from blossom to blossom it ranges ;
Go ask it why faithless like me,
With the swift passing moment it changes.
Or catch the light wings of the wind,
That make in the grove such a rumpas,
Go ask how they dare unconfin’d,
Blow from each diff’rent point of the compass.
(Laura Sophia Temple)
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