Classic Poem

THE BASHFUL LOVER .

Oh that the time were come, when she who now,
(If Hope may trust to Love, a guide so blind)
(Did maiden pride such frankness here allow)
Would greet her friend with accents doubly kind
The time, when she, by Wedlock's holy vow,
In Custom's tyrant bonds no more confin'd,
Might ev'ry feeling of her soul avow,
And leave Reserve and all its frost behind.
But why ungrateful should I thus repine?
Has not the maid whom all my thoughts adore,
Already deign'd, with goodness most divine,
To grant as yet whate'er I durst implore?
And sure, thou trembling heart, the fault were thine
Hadst thou not boldness to solicit more.