Verses to Delia on the Author's Going to the Country

With joy I might the town forego,
The country pleas'd to see,
If any pleasure I could know,
That is not shar'd by thee.

In vain from place to place I range,
For still, where'er I be,
My mind, incapable of change,
With fondness turns to thee.

I'll mark, as through the woods I stray,
Thy name on ev'ry tree,
And bid each passing gale convey
Thy lover's sighs to thee.

My passion I'll to groves proclaim.—
Birds list'ning on the sprays,
Oft taught by me, shall learn thy name,
And Delia fill their lays.

My passion to the hills around
In softest lays I'll tell;
Echo, enamour'd of the sound,
On Delia's name shall dwell.

Thus ev'ry object, taught by me,
Shall some kind aid impart
To cherish what I feel for thee,
And soothe my love-sick heart.

Wilt thou, when this shall meet thy eye,
My transient absence mourn,
And softly breathe a wishing sigh,
To hasten my return?
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