Classic Poem

I Love the ground where Delia treads,
And eager oft repair
To visit the delightful spot,
Where once I met my fair.

The lov'd idea of her charms
Is present still to me;
Much rather had I think on her,
Than other beauties see,

With her delightful presence blest,
I laugh at ev'ry ill;
When she is absent, to my joy
There's something wanting still.

When she is present, to her charms
I give up all my soul;
My eye is ever drawn to her
By strong but sweet controul.

She sometimes, in delicious dreams,
Appears my arms to bless;
How many waking hours I'd give
For such a dream as this.

Along with her to spend my life,
Is what I most desire;
Or, if the fates my wish deny,
Within her arms expire.