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Poem	Ah! wherefore should my weeping maid suppress Those gentle signs of undissembled woe? When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, Ah, why forbid the willing tears to flow? Since for my sake each dear translucent drop Breaks forth, best witness of thy truth sincere, My lips should drink the precious mixture up, And, ere it falls, receive the trembling tear. Trust me, these symptoms of thy faithful heart, In absence shall my dearest hope sustain; Delia! since such thy sorrow that we part, Such when we meet thy joy shall be again. Hard is that heart, and unsubdued by love, That feels no pain, nor ever heaves a sigh; Such hearts the fiercest passions only prove, Or freeze in cold insensibility. Oh! then indulge thy grief, nor fear to tell The gentle source from whence thy sorrows flow, Nor think it weakness when we love to feel, Nor think it weakness what we feel to show.
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