Thomas Gent (Томас Гент)

* * *

Come, Jenny, let me sip the dew,
That on those coral lips doth play,
One kiss would every care subdue,
And bid my weary soul be gay.

For surely, thou wert form'd by love
To bless the suffrer's parting sigh;
In pity then, my griefs remove,
And on that bosom let me die! 

1. Written on Seeing the Children of the Naval Asylum
2. Impromptu
3. Sonnet On seeing a Young Lady I had previously known, confined in a Madhouse
4. Mature Reflections
5. The Grave of Dibdin

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