Classic Poem

Yes , I have met thee on the lonely strand,
And traced thy footstep o'er the printed sand;
Thy rosy cheek, with heav'n's own blushes spread,
Thy swimming eye, of rich voluptuous blue,
Thy tresses radiant as the amber's hue;
Thy breast, where Transport form'd his snowy bed.
I've seen, — and often, often, strove in vain,
To catch thee, fleeting o'er the dusky plain;
Feeling , and T HEE , by yon broad lake, I've spy'd,
Marking with tranced eye the dimpling stream,
When bashful Cynthia, thron'd in solemn pride,
Flung, ever and anon, a shatter'd beam. —
Why mock the youth, whose soul sincerely woos,
Ah! why not visit my sequester'd cell,
Tales of delightful deeds, mysterious tell,
And soothe my bleeding bosom, loveliest M USE !