Classic Poem

Depriv'd of fortune, doom'd to toil,
Yet ev'n amidst my care,
Consol'd and chear'd by beauty's smile,
The vot'ry of the fair.

However low my station be,
Yet beauty can inspire;
Thank heav'n, I still have eyes to soe,
A heart I've to admire.

Thou, Delia, art my constant theme,
Or present, or away;
Through all the night of thee I dream,
Think of thee all the day.

Ev'n when I'm most o'erpow'r'd with grief,
Still can thy looks impart
To all my woes a quick relief,
And pleasure to my heart.

How often I, with eager feet,
Through tedious paths have stray'd,
And thought, that thee at last to meet
Has all my toils repaid.

Nor think those joys unworthy be,
Which thus arise from sight;
When God gave eyes, he gave to see
All beauty with delight.

If 'gainst the charms we shut our eyes
That nature's scenes unfold,
In vain he bade these charms to rise,
If we will not behold.

The mighty Maker's goodness best
We in his works can see;
And, Delia, goodness thus exprest,
I learn to love in thee.