A FRAGMENT.

SINGING a sweet song,

A lover's own,

Tripping lightly along,

O'er grass new mown,

Takes she her careless way,

Fresh as the leafy May,

Fair as the crystal spray,

And she's alone.

Sporting on her red lip

A fairy smile,

Like the bird and bee doth sip,

And pause awhile;

Whirling its rapid flight,

Flashing a rainbow light,

Seen now, now lost to sight, -

My heart doth wile.

Under the beechen shade

I watch and sigh,

Trembling to meet the maid,

I know not why.

Smiling away my heart,

Artfully, without art,

Playing the coquette's part,

She trips me by.