When On The Lip The Sigh Delays.

When on the lip the sigh delays,
    As if 'twould linger there for ever;
When eyes would give the world to gaze,
    Yet still look down and venture never;
When, tho' with fairest nymphs we rove,
    There's one we dream of more than any--
If all this is not real love,
    'Tis something wondrous like it, Fanny!

To think and ponder, when apart,
    On all we've got to say at meeting;
And yet when near, with heart to heart,
    Sit mute and listen to their beating:
To see but one bright object move,
    The only moon, where stars are many--
If all this is not downright love,
    I prithee say what is, my Fanny!

When Hope foretells the brightest, best,
    Tho' Reason on the darkest reckons;
When Passion drives us to the west,
    Tho' Prudence to the eastward beckons;
When all turns round, below, above,
    And our own heads the most of any--
If this is not stark, staring love,
    Then you and I are sages, Fanny.