Think Not While Gayer Swains Invite

Think not while gayer swains invite
Thy feet dear Girl, to pleasure's bowers,
My faded form shall meet thy sight
And cloud my Laura's smiling hours.

Thou art the world's delighted guest,
And all the young admire, is thine;
Then I'll not wound thy gentle breast
By numb'ring o'er the wounds of mine.

I will not say how well, how long,
This faithful heart has sigh'd for thee;
But leave thee happier swains among,
Content, if thou contented be.

But Laura, should Misfortune's wand
Bid all thy youth's gay visions fly,
From thy soft cheek the rose command,
And force the lustre from thine eye;

Then, thoughtless of my own distress,
I'll haste thy comforter to prove,
And Laura shall my friendship bless
Altho' alas! she scorns my love.