The Proud Aurora

Let larking bliss on zephyr wings descend And meadows fill with gleeful mirth and song; The proud aurora’s sparkle then amend With daisies spread in an ambrosial throng. The cheerful gods pour nectar into grails, And the Elysian Fields unveil their trails. Not made by inner storms in wet lament, Nor wrung in waning light at lonely hours, But dressed in asters and with lilac blent, Alluring hungry bees to laden flowers: In such attire was passion brightly born, Swathed full in beams of love and never lorn. The fragrant bed where bashful muses lie To lose the world, forget and softly doze Away for hours is yet the same place I Stole your first kiss and gave you a red rose. I judged the bow of Cupid too benign Before I won your heart and you had mine.