ALPINE FLAX. 
While plaintive Zephyrs round me sigh, 
My tender leaflet skimming, 
See, Lucy, in my azure eye, 
The pearl of beauty swimming. 
So ’tis with thee, my Lucy fair, 
When thy soft eye beams brightly, 
Thy bosom pure, must heave with care, 
Or sorrow touch thee lightly. 
