Song.

SONG.

I.

TO those shades with delight I could fly, How tasteless the town is to me; In every gay scene that I try. My thoughts they but wander to thee.

II.

Why remind me of those happy days? Here is nothing but dress and vain shew, Of those banks where I sung my first lays, And remark'd every flower as it grew?

III.

Tho' we crowd the dull walks every night, Where's the careless sweet ease I enjoy'd; Not the beaux nor the belles e'er so bright; On these shades are my thoughts still employ'd.

IV.

Sweet shades! where with silence or — thee, My mind every thought could approve; Sweet shades! I admire every tree, And I fly to the friend whom I love.