230 THE lover’s offering, * 
For sportsmen keen who range the lea, 
I’ve Pheasant's-eye, and sprigs of Heather , 
For Courtiers with the supple knee, 
I’ve climbing plants and Prince's-feather. 
For thin, tall fops I keep the Rush ; 
For pedants still I’m Nightshade weeding; 
For rakes I’ve Devil-in-the-bush ; 
For sighing Strephons Love-lies-bleeding. 
But fairest blooms Affection’s hand 
For constancy and worth disposes, 
And gladly weaves, at your command, 
A wreath of Amaranth and Roses. 
Mbs. Cobbold 
TO YOU I’D FLY. 
If I had but two little wings, 
And were a little feathery bird, 
To you I’d fly, my dear ! 
But thoughts like these are idle things, 
And I stay here. 
But in my sleep to you I fly: 
I’m always with you in my sleep! 
The world is all one’s own. 
But then one wakes, and where am I ? 
All, all alone. 
