Classic Poem

“Oh tempt me not! kind sir, I pray,
“To that my sorrows must deny!
“'Tis fit I take my lonely way—
“'Tis fit a Penitent shou'd die!”

‘Oh lovely Maid! the night will come,
‘And loud the tempest soon may be:
‘My cottage nigh supplies a home
‘To shelter all thy woes—and thee.’

“Alas! I never more must dare
“Confide in man,” the wand'rer said—
“There is a bank of thistles there
“Must prove a pillow for my head.

“The whirlwind rushing o'er the plain,
“Now suits my heartfelt sorrows best,
“But still—there glimmers in my brain—
“A thought—that Laura once was blest!

“A parent once, with tend'rest care,
“Would scarce the gentlest winds allow;
“That time is past—and storms severe,
“And lodging cold becomes me now!”

‘Farewell! poor Damsel! since we part,
‘And ev'ry hope I must resign;
‘The grief which thus has chill'd thy heart,
‘I fear too much has soften'd mine!