1.
In moments to delight devoted,
"My Life!" with tenderest tone, you cry;
Dear words! on which my heart had doted,
If Youth could neither fade nor die.
2.
To Death even hours like these must roll,
Ah! then repeat those accents never;
Or change "my Life!" into "my Soul!"
Which, like my Love, exists for ever.
[MS. M.]
ANOTHER VERSION.
You call me still your Life.—Oh! change the word—
Life is as transient as the inconstant sigh:
Say rather I'm your Soul; more just that name,
For, like the soul, my Love can never die.