I'm calm; I bear it; yet if I
Should let escape one little sigh,
No stoic well could blame me;
For still the memory abides
Of wintry parties, wintry rides,
With thee, most fickle Amy.
Ah, brief vacation! that thy joys
Should first upon the balance poise,
Then plunge in melancholy!
And sadder thought, as pleasures fly,
To feel their loss occasioned by
One's own unaided folly.
I 'll tell the tale; though hard to bear,
My grief may lighten if I share
Its burden with another.
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