When On The Lip The Sigh Delays.

When on the lip the sigh delays,         As if 'twould linger there for ever;     When eyes would give the world to gaze,         Yet still look down and venture never;     When, tho' with fairest nymphs we rove,         There's one we dream of more than any--     If all this is not real love,         'Tis something wondrous like it, Fanny!     To think and ponder, when apart,         On all we've got to say at meeting;     And yet when near, with heart to heart,         Sit mute and listen to their beating:     To see but one bright object move,         The only moon, where stars are many--     If all this is not downright love,         I prithee say what is, my Fanny!     When Hope foretells the brightest, best,         Tho' Reason on the darkest reckons;     When Passion drives us to the west,         Tho' Prudence to the eastward beckons;     When all turns round, below, above,         And our own heads the most of any--     If this is not stark, staring love,         Then you and I are sages, Fanny.