Sir John Carr
Sir John Carr Poems
Epigram On Winning A Young Lady’s Money At Cards
How fairly Fortune all her gifts imparts;
We win your money, Ann, and you our hearts.
Wide thro' the azure blue and bright
Serenely floats the lamp of night;
The sleeping waves forget to move,
And silent is the cedar grove;
Each breeze suspended seems to say-
'Now, Leline, for thy Roundelay!'
My Delia's lids are clos'd in rest;
Ah! were her pillow but my breast!