First Love

Ah me! how hard the task to bear The weight of ills we know! But harder still to dry the tear, That mourns a nameless we. If by the side of Lucy's wheel I sit to see her spin, My head around begins to reel, My heart to beat within. Or when on harvest holliday I lead the dance along, If Lucy chance to cross my way, So sure she leads me wrong, If I attempt the pipe to play, And catch my Lucy's eye, The trembling musick dies away, And melts into a sigh. Where'er I go, where'er I turn, If Lucy there be found, I seem to shiver, yet I burn, My head goes swimming round. I cannot bear to see her smile, Unless she smile on me; And if she frown, I sigh the while, But know not whence it be. Ah, what have I to Lucy done To cause me so much stir? From rising to the setting sun I sigh, and think of her. In vain I strive to join the throng In social mirth and ease; Now lonely woods I stray among, For only woods can please. Ah, me! this restless heart I fear Will never be at rest, 'Till Lucy cease to live, or tear Her image from my breast.