Classic Poem

W ITH my goat when I measur'd in sport, and when he
Was — in those happy days — an inch taller than me;
Then my Phillis I lov'd, and her smiles were endear'd,
But the Nymph is no more since the Goddess appear'd.

I once told her myself " that I lov'd her . " The heart
Gave me words that no graces of speech could impart;
But she kiss'd me, and said, " Little boy, have a care!
You can little imagine what mischief is there. "

She of others grew fond — they enamour'd of her,
I am now of an age which the lasses prefer;
But it comes with a date of misfortune to me,
For my love is rejected — withheld is the fee.

Tho' impassion'd and sweet was her kiss to the boy,
Yet as man I despair of renewing its joy.
What she gave to me then she appears to forget,
But the lips that she touch'd can remember it yet.