Song by Michael Wodhull

What still does fair Lucy’s disdain
Occasion this festering smart;
Cannot time give relief to your pain,
And heal the slight wound in your heart?

The arrows of Cupid, I know,
At first are all pointed with steel:
But how frail is the strength of his bow!
How fleeting the pangs which we feel!

His wings they are shatter’d by Time,
His quiver is soil’d in the dust;
Such, such , is Life’s flowery prime,
And Beauty’s most insolent trust.

Taste the joys a new passion can give,
With the Nymph that’s complying and kind;
Or, learning more sagely to live,
Be blest, and give Love to the wind.

From: Wodhull, Michael, Poems, 1772, W. Bowyer and J. Nicholls: London, p. 53.

Date: 1772

By: Michael Wodhull (1740-1816)


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