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Come hither, thou beautiful rover,

Thou wand'rer of earth and of air ; Who bearest the sighs of a lover,

And bringest him news from his fair. Bend hither thy light-waving pinion,

And show me the gloss of thy neck; O perch on my hand, dearest minion,

And turn up thy bright eye and peck.

Here is bread of the whitest and sweetest,

And there is a sip of red wine;
Though thy wing is the lightest and fleetest,

"Twill be fleeter when nerved by the vine : I have written on rose-scented paper,

With thy wing quill, a soft billet-doux, I have melted the wax in love's taper, "Tis the colour of true hearts, sky blue.

I have fastened it under thy pinion,

With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck; So go from me, beautiful minion,

While the blue ether shows not a speck: Like a cloud in dim distance fleeting,

Like an arrow he hurries away; And farther, and farther retreating,

He is lost in the clear blue of day.



SPARKLING and bright in liquid light

Does the wine our goblets gleam in,
With hue as red as the rosy bed
Which a bee would wish to dream in.
Then fill to-night with hearts as light,

To loves as gay and fleeting
As bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim,

And break on the lips while meeting.

Oh! if Mirth might arrest the flight

Of Time, through Life's dominions,
We here awhile would now beguile
The Graybeard of his pinions
To drink to-night with hearts as light,

To loves as gay and fleeting

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