Love and Reason.’Twas in the summer time so sweet,When hearts and flowers were both in season,When, who of all the world should meet,One early dawn, but Love and Reason!Love told his dream of yesternight,Whilst Reason talk’d about the weather:The morning, sooth, was clear and bright,So on they took their way together.The boy in many a gambol flew;Whilst Reason like a Juno stalk’d,And from her portly figure threwA lengthen’d shadow as they walk’d.No wonder Love, as on they pass’d,Should find the sunny morning chill;For still the shadow Reason castFollow’d the boy, and cool’d him still.In vain he strove his wings to warm,Or find a pathway not so dim;For still the maid’s gigantic formWould pass between the sun and him.“This must not be,” said little Love,“The sun was made for more than you.”So, turning down a myrtle grove,He bade the portly nymph “Adieu.”Now gaily roves the laughing boyO’er many a mead, through many a bower,In every breeze inhaling joy,And drinking bliss from every flower.From all the gardens, all the bowers,He cull’d the many sweets they shaded;He eat the fruits, and smelt the flowers,Till taste was gone, and odour faded.Now the sun, in pomp of noon,Rose high above the parched plains;Alas! the boy grew languid soon,And fever thrill’d through all his veins.The dew forsook his baby brow,No more with vivid bloom he smil’d;Ah! where was tranquilReasonnow,To cast her shadow o’er the child?Beneath a green and aged palm,His foot at length for shelter turning;He saw the maid reclining calm,With brow as cool as his was burning.“Oh take me to your bosom cold!”In murmurs at her feet he said,And Reason oped her garment’s fold,And flung it round his feverish head.He felt her bosom’s icy touch,And soon it lull’d his pulse to rest;But ah! the chill was quite too much,And Love expir’d on Reason’s breast.
Love and Reason.’Twas in the summer time so sweet,When hearts and flowers were both in season,When, who of all the world should meet,One early dawn, but Love and Reason!Love told his dream of yesternight,Whilst Reason talk’d about the weather:The morning, sooth, was clear and bright,So on they took their way together.The boy in many a gambol flew;Whilst Reason like a Juno stalk’d,And from her portly figure threwA lengthen’d shadow as they walk’d.No wonder Love, as on they pass’d,Should find the sunny morning chill;For still the shadow Reason castFollow’d the boy, and cool’d him still.In vain he strove his wings to warm,Or find a pathway not so dim;For still the maid’s gigantic formWould pass between the sun and him.“This must not be,” said little Love,“The sun was made for more than you.”So, turning down a myrtle grove,He bade the portly nymph “Adieu.”Now gaily roves the laughing boyO’er many a mead, through many a bower,In every breeze inhaling joy,And drinking bliss from every flower.From all the gardens, all the bowers,He cull’d the many sweets they shaded;He eat the fruits, and smelt the flowers,Till taste was gone, and odour faded.Now the sun, in pomp of noon,Rose high above the parched plains;Alas! the boy grew languid soon,And fever thrill’d through all his veins.The dew forsook his baby brow,No more with vivid bloom he smil’d;Ah! where was tranquilReasonnow,To cast her shadow o’er the child?Beneath a green and aged palm,His foot at length for shelter turning;He saw the maid reclining calm,With brow as cool as his was burning.“Oh take me to your bosom cold!”In murmurs at her feet he said,And Reason oped her garment’s fold,And flung it round his feverish head.He felt her bosom’s icy touch,And soon it lull’d his pulse to rest;But ah! the chill was quite too much,And Love expir’d on Reason’s breast.
’Twas in the summer time so sweet,When hearts and flowers were both in season,When, who of all the world should meet,One early dawn, but Love and Reason!Love told his dream of yesternight,Whilst Reason talk’d about the weather:The morning, sooth, was clear and bright,So on they took their way together.The boy in many a gambol flew;Whilst Reason like a Juno stalk’d,And from her portly figure threwA lengthen’d shadow as they walk’d.No wonder Love, as on they pass’d,Should find the sunny morning chill;For still the shadow Reason castFollow’d the boy, and cool’d him still.In vain he strove his wings to warm,Or find a pathway not so dim;For still the maid’s gigantic formWould pass between the sun and him.“This must not be,” said little Love,“The sun was made for more than you.”So, turning down a myrtle grove,He bade the portly nymph “Adieu.”Now gaily roves the laughing boyO’er many a mead, through many a bower,In every breeze inhaling joy,And drinking bliss from every flower.From all the gardens, all the bowers,He cull’d the many sweets they shaded;He eat the fruits, and smelt the flowers,Till taste was gone, and odour faded.Now the sun, in pomp of noon,Rose high above the parched plains;Alas! the boy grew languid soon,And fever thrill’d through all his veins.The dew forsook his baby brow,No more with vivid bloom he smil’d;Ah! where was tranquilReasonnow,To cast her shadow o’er the child?Beneath a green and aged palm,His foot at length for shelter turning;He saw the maid reclining calm,With brow as cool as his was burning.“Oh take me to your bosom cold!”In murmurs at her feet he said,And Reason oped her garment’s fold,And flung it round his feverish head.He felt her bosom’s icy touch,And soon it lull’d his pulse to rest;But ah! the chill was quite too much,And Love expir’d on Reason’s breast.
’Twas in the summer time so sweet,When hearts and flowers were both in season,When, who of all the world should meet,One early dawn, but Love and Reason!Love told his dream of yesternight,Whilst Reason talk’d about the weather:The morning, sooth, was clear and bright,So on they took their way together.The boy in many a gambol flew;Whilst Reason like a Juno stalk’d,And from her portly figure threwA lengthen’d shadow as they walk’d.No wonder Love, as on they pass’d,Should find the sunny morning chill;For still the shadow Reason castFollow’d the boy, and cool’d him still.In vain he strove his wings to warm,Or find a pathway not so dim;For still the maid’s gigantic formWould pass between the sun and him.“This must not be,” said little Love,“The sun was made for more than you.”So, turning down a myrtle grove,He bade the portly nymph “Adieu.”Now gaily roves the laughing boyO’er many a mead, through many a bower,In every breeze inhaling joy,And drinking bliss from every flower.From all the gardens, all the bowers,He cull’d the many sweets they shaded;He eat the fruits, and smelt the flowers,Till taste was gone, and odour faded.Now the sun, in pomp of noon,Rose high above the parched plains;Alas! the boy grew languid soon,And fever thrill’d through all his veins.The dew forsook his baby brow,No more with vivid bloom he smil’d;Ah! where was tranquilReasonnow,To cast her shadow o’er the child?Beneath a green and aged palm,His foot at length for shelter turning;He saw the maid reclining calm,With brow as cool as his was burning.“Oh take me to your bosom cold!”In murmurs at her feet he said,And Reason oped her garment’s fold,And flung it round his feverish head.He felt her bosom’s icy touch,And soon it lull’d his pulse to rest;But ah! the chill was quite too much,And Love expir’d on Reason’s breast.
’Twas in the summer time so sweet,When hearts and flowers were both in season,When, who of all the world should meet,One early dawn, but Love and Reason!
’Twas in the summer time so sweet,
When hearts and flowers were both in season,
When, who of all the world should meet,
One early dawn, but Love and Reason!
Love told his dream of yesternight,Whilst Reason talk’d about the weather:The morning, sooth, was clear and bright,So on they took their way together.
Love told his dream of yesternight,
Whilst Reason talk’d about the weather:
The morning, sooth, was clear and bright,
So on they took their way together.
The boy in many a gambol flew;Whilst Reason like a Juno stalk’d,And from her portly figure threwA lengthen’d shadow as they walk’d.
The boy in many a gambol flew;
Whilst Reason like a Juno stalk’d,
And from her portly figure threw
A lengthen’d shadow as they walk’d.
No wonder Love, as on they pass’d,Should find the sunny morning chill;For still the shadow Reason castFollow’d the boy, and cool’d him still.
No wonder Love, as on they pass’d,
Should find the sunny morning chill;
For still the shadow Reason cast
Follow’d the boy, and cool’d him still.
In vain he strove his wings to warm,Or find a pathway not so dim;For still the maid’s gigantic formWould pass between the sun and him.
In vain he strove his wings to warm,
Or find a pathway not so dim;
For still the maid’s gigantic form
Would pass between the sun and him.
“This must not be,” said little Love,“The sun was made for more than you.”So, turning down a myrtle grove,He bade the portly nymph “Adieu.”
“This must not be,” said little Love,
“The sun was made for more than you.”
So, turning down a myrtle grove,
He bade the portly nymph “Adieu.”
Now gaily roves the laughing boyO’er many a mead, through many a bower,In every breeze inhaling joy,And drinking bliss from every flower.
Now gaily roves the laughing boy
O’er many a mead, through many a bower,
In every breeze inhaling joy,
And drinking bliss from every flower.
From all the gardens, all the bowers,He cull’d the many sweets they shaded;He eat the fruits, and smelt the flowers,Till taste was gone, and odour faded.
From all the gardens, all the bowers,
He cull’d the many sweets they shaded;
He eat the fruits, and smelt the flowers,
Till taste was gone, and odour faded.
Now the sun, in pomp of noon,Rose high above the parched plains;Alas! the boy grew languid soon,And fever thrill’d through all his veins.
Now the sun, in pomp of noon,
Rose high above the parched plains;
Alas! the boy grew languid soon,
And fever thrill’d through all his veins.
The dew forsook his baby brow,No more with vivid bloom he smil’d;Ah! where was tranquilReasonnow,To cast her shadow o’er the child?
The dew forsook his baby brow,
No more with vivid bloom he smil’d;
Ah! where was tranquilReasonnow,
To cast her shadow o’er the child?
Beneath a green and aged palm,His foot at length for shelter turning;He saw the maid reclining calm,With brow as cool as his was burning.
Beneath a green and aged palm,
His foot at length for shelter turning;
He saw the maid reclining calm,
With brow as cool as his was burning.
“Oh take me to your bosom cold!”In murmurs at her feet he said,And Reason oped her garment’s fold,And flung it round his feverish head.
“Oh take me to your bosom cold!”
In murmurs at her feet he said,
And Reason oped her garment’s fold,
And flung it round his feverish head.
He felt her bosom’s icy touch,And soon it lull’d his pulse to rest;But ah! the chill was quite too much,And Love expir’d on Reason’s breast.
He felt her bosom’s icy touch,
And soon it lull’d his pulse to rest;
But ah! the chill was quite too much,
And Love expir’d on Reason’s breast.