Sonnet. The Downright Lover


And could the charmer of my soul suppose,
That praise, so justly to her talents due,
From any source but strong conviction rose,
And only meant my bantering pow'rs to shew?
Alas, that she I love so little knows
This simple heart, to feign which never knew;
And which could now without alarm expose
Its inmost feelings to her piercing view:
But sure, if right I could those blushes read,
Which kindled on her cheek confusion's flame,
These cruel words from doubt could ne'er proceed,
But rose entirely from ingenuous shame;
Which strove beneath that sportive veil to hide
The sweet perplexity of virgin pride.
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