I.
When I was yet a little boy,
And Dorila as young,
Forth to the fields we went with joy,
Where the first violets sprung.
II.
Her hands arranged, with natural grace,
For each a garland gay;
And thus, midst childish sports, apace
The moments danced away.
III.
Our age advanced, as they withdrew,
Unwatch’d by us the while;
By slow degrees our knowledge grew,
Till innocence seem’d guile.
IV.
The sight of me would now provoke
A smile, I scarce knew why,
From Dorila; and if I spoke,
A laugh was the reply.
V.
The flowers I pluck’d she swiftly twined,
Her own had little care;
It took her twice as long to bind
My chaplet in my hair.
VI.
One summer’s eve two doves we spied;
Their trembling bills were cross’d;
Then first we knew for what we sigh’d:
The lesson was not lost.